ACTAUNIVERSITATIS PALACKIANAE OLOMUCENSIS

FACULTAS PHILOSOPHICA

PHILOSOPHICA – AESTHETICA 47 – 2016

MUSICOLOGICAOLOMUCENSIA

23

Universitas Palackiana Olomucensis 2016

Musicologica Olomucensia

Editor-in-chief: Lenka Křupková

Editorial Board: Michael Beckerman – New York University, NY; Mikuláš Bek – Masaryk University, Brno; Roman Dykast – Academy of Performing Arts, Prague; Jarmila Gabrielová – Charles University, Prague; Lubomír Chalupka – Komenský University, Bratislava; Magdalena Dziadek – Jagiellonian University in Kraków; Jan Vičar – Palacký University, Olomouc

Executive editor of Volume 23 (June 2016): Jan Blüml

„Zpracování a vydání publikace bylo umožněno díky fi nanční podpoře, udělené roku 2016 Ministerstvem školství, mládeže a tělovýchovy ČR v rámci Institucionálního rozvojového plánu, Filozofi cké fakultě Univerzity Palackého v Olomouci.“

„Processing and publication of this issue was made possible through the fi nancial support granted in 2016 by Ministry of Education, Youth and Sports of the Czech Republic within the Institutional development plan, to Faculty of Arts, Palacký University in Olomouc.“

The scholarly journal Musicologica Olomucensia has been published twice a year (in June and December) since 2010 and follows up on the Palacký University proceedings Acta Universitatis Palackianae Olomucensis – Musicologica Olomucensia (founded in 1993) and Kritické edice hudebních památek [Critical Editions of Musical Documents] (founded in 1996).

Journal Musicologica Olomucensia can be found on RILM and EBSCOhost databases.

The present volume was submitted to print on May 31, 2016.Předáno do tisku 31. května 2016.

musicologicaolomucensia@upol.czwww.musicologicaolomucensia.upol.cz

ISSN 1212–1193Reg. no. MK ČR E 19473

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

CONTENTS

Katarzyna BABULEWICZ: In Search of Stylistic Idiom – Music to the Central-European Cartoons Krtek and Reksio .....................................................................................................................7

Charris EFTHIMIOU:On the Instrumentation of the Melody Line of Joseph Mysliveček’s Symphonies Nos. 42–47 .........................................................................................................29

Greg HURWORTH:Defi ning Moments of the Spirit and Soul in Music ..........................................................53

Michał JACZYŃSKI:Max Brod as a Music Critic ................................................................................................81

Nors S. JOSEPHSON:Sibelius at the Crossroads: Old Paths Leading to New Creative Departures in His Second Symphony (1901/02) ..................................................................................101

Pavel KUNČAR:Perception of Music from a Sound Recording ................................................................ 111

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Ivana MARIJAN – Julian SCHMITZ: “From the West to the Rest?” World Music im Wandel .................................................123

Ingrid SILNÁ:Music and Singing in Olomouc Gymnastic Societies between 1918 and 1939 ............133

Book Reviews .......................................................................................................................145

Contributors ........................................................................................................................153

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

OBSAH

Katarzyna BABULEWICZ: Hledání stylového idiomu – hudba ve středoevropských kreslených seriálech Krtek a Reksio .........................................................................................................................7

Charris EFTHIMIOU:K instrumentaci melodické linie v Symfoniích č. 42–47 Josefa Myslivečka ....................29

Greg HURWORTH:Určující momenty Ducha a Duše v hudbě .........................................................................53

Michał JACZYŃSKI:Max Brod jako hudební kritik .............................................................................................81

Nors S. JOSEPHSON:Sibelius na rozcestí: tradiční cesty, jež vedou k novým tvůrčím východiskům, na příkladu skladatelovy Symfonie č. 2 (1901/02) ...........................................................101

Pavel KUNČAR:Vnímání hudby pomocí hudební nahrávky: zvuková interpretace ................................. 111

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Ivana MARIJAN – Julian SCHMITZ: „From the West to the Rest?“ World Music v transformačním procesu .......................123

Ingrid SILNÁ:Hudba a zpěv v olomouckých tělocvičných spolcích v letech 1918–1939 ....................133

Recenze ................................................................................................................................145

Autoři ...................................................................................................................................153

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

In Search of Stylistic Idiom – Music to the Central-European Cartoons Krtek and Reksio

Katarzyna Babulewicz

Already in the 1960s Zofi a Lissa, a pioneer of Polish research on the aesthetics of fi lm music, in her monumental work pointed a distinction of the music composed for the animated fi lms – “Principles of compositional techniques are slightly diff erent for it than for feature fi lms […]”.1 Researcher enumerated the following reasons for this speciall situation, among others: “short time of the movie (which provides the ability to use clas-sical compositional techniques), fantastic visual layer of the cartoon (can be combined with unrealistic sounds, especially music), the fact, that here music is the only element derived from the real world (serves to make pictures seem real), and the artifi ciality of the image – it allows its closer relationship with the music.2” Although it’s been more than half of a century since these preliminary observations were made, the issue of music in the animated fi lm still does not catch the attention of the researchers – not only on the basis of Polish musicology, but in general. In 2005, Daniel Goldmark stated that there has been a lack of a “critical work about music in animated fi lms.”3

This paper is an attempt to create a framework for the comparative analysis regarding the music to the European cartoons for children produced before 1990. The scope of the described framework is to prove the very existence of musical idiosyncrasy in such cartoons, and, if it’s possible, to classify the composers according to the aesthetic, tech-nical and cultural criteria (e.g., the traditionally concerned division into the Eastern and Western cultural zone).4 The framework includes the methodology of the cartoon

1 Zofi a Lissa, Estetyka muzyki fi lmowej (Kraków: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1964), 375.2 Ibidem, 375.3 Daniel Goldmark, Tunes for ‘Toons. Music and the Hollywood Cartoon (Berkeley: University of

California Press, 2005), 3, from: Anna G. Piotrowska, O muzyce i fi lmie. Wprowadzenie do muzykologii fi lmowej (Kraków: Musica Iagellonica, 2014), 28.

4 It is the aim of the future PhD. by the Author – intended to be a monograph of the European music to the cartoons produced before 1990 (before the perestroika in the Soviet Union).

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soundtrack analysis. In such a situation it seems to be useful to combine musicological approach with some elements of fi lm studies, cultural studies, history, sociology etc. For interdisciplinary approach stands words of Iwona Sowińska (spoken in reference to the fi lm in general): “Thinking about the special, the frontier phenomenon of fi lm music, it is impossible to deal only with the notes.”5 The main object of analysis are, therefore, fi lms with its soundtracks. Score may be used, but only auxiliary.

As for the methodology, the most appropriate tool seems to be the method of descripti-ve analysis by Kathryn Kalinak – the method consisting in describing representative parts of the fi lm along with accompanying music.6 This method is used by many researchers. It allows to appreciate the element of original music in the fi lm and to associate its style with general tendencies of the epoch.

I decided to focus on two cartoon series for children: the Czechoslovakian Krtek (The Mole) and Polish Reksio. The former was aired between 1957 and 2002 whereas the latter between 1967 and 1990. All the episodes of Krtek were directed by Zdeněk Miler and the series was produced by the fi lm studio Bratři v triku. The episodes of Krtek vary in length taking from 5 to 30 minutes (the longest episodes were produced in the late 1980s, and the fi rst one took 13 minutes).7 The main character, the Mole, does not speak (very sparingly he uses single words such as “ach jo”, “ahoj” or, in one episode, “chamomil-la”). Instead, he cries of joy, surprise or despair. The Mole lives in a forest and has many animal neighbors e.g., frogs, hedgehog, owl and various birds. Its best friend is perhaps a Mouse. The Mole is a bold character, curious about the surrounding world and eager to help others. The titles of the particular episodes typically consist of the name of the main protagonist and a noun of human origin (e.g., The Mole and the Umbrella, The Mole and the Bulldozer or The Mole and the Matchbox). Some, however, refer to a social role (e.g., The Mole as a Gardener; The Mole as a Watchmaker), a place to visit (e.g., The Mole in the Desert; The Mole in the City) or another character (e.g., The Mole and the Hedgehog).

Polish Reksio was developed in the Studio Filmów Rysunkowych in Bielsko-Biała. Over the years among its directors were: Lechosław Marszałek, Józef Ćwiertnia, Edward Wątor, Marian Cholerek, Romuald Kłys, Halina Filek-Marszałek and Ryszard Lepióra. As in the case of Krtek, it is a silent cartoon series. Its title hero is a pied mongrel living in a country. Reksio is bold and faithful to his master and friends. His surroundings comprise mainly the yard and the kennel to protect, but in fact are broader (e.g., Reksio is a friend of the brown dog and is apparently in love with a bitch that resembles the female character from Walt Disney’s The Lady and the Tramp; sometimes he goes for an outside trip). In several episodes Reksio plays a role of fi reman, therapist or teacher. His

5 Iwona Sowińska, Polska muzyka fi lmowa 1945–1968 (Katowice: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Śląskiego 2006), 11.

6 Piotrowska, O muzyce i fi lmie, 35.7 The fi rst episode in the series entitled How the Mole got its Trousers (Jak Krtek ke kalhotkám přišel)

diff ers from all other because the characters speak. The Mole looks diff erent, too.

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adventures often involve external characters, too (Reksio and the Sausage Dog; Reksio and the UFO; Reksio and the Cricket).

Regarding the musical background, Krtek is more heterogeneous than Reksio, because over the years it was provided with music by many composers, for instance Jaroslav Křička,8 William Bukový, Miloš Vacek and Vadim Petrov. In the case of Reksio as many as 59 episodes (of total 65) are the work of just one man – Zenon Kowalowski; they are all preceded with the same funny opening credits. The music to the fi rst six episodes of the series is by Tadeusz Kański, Bogumił Pasternak, Waldemar Kazanecki, and Adam Markiewicz.

For the sake of the credibility of comparison I decided to analyze only those episodes of Reksio and Krtek that are similar with regard to their content and scenery.

The Mole as a Painter (Krtek malířem) – music by Miloš Vacek

The beginning of this episode is typical of the entire series: the Mole leaves its heap to roam around the forest looking for adventures. This time he is surprised because the entrance of the heap turns out to be surrounded by multiple cans of paint. The mood of surprise is refl ected in short bassoon motifs that are provided with grace notes and dispersed in the sound space. When the Mole curiously studies the vessels with mysteri-ous liquid these motifs seem to stand for “testing”. Then a fox appears ready to devour our hero. Its entry is accompanied with a sinister laugh. The fox is provided with its own theme. It is an aggressive, syncopated theme for trumpet and percussion, consisting of short motifs separated with pauses (they form a chromatic sequence). It resembles the so called fi gures of horror frequently used in the 19th century in the opera and program music. The timbre of the solo instrument corresponds with the surroundings (metal cans). The subsequent chase is full of the reminiscences of the “fox theme”. However, when the Mole fells into the can of red paint (in the end, it also fells), the fox theme is replaced with some eff ects imitating the sound of the fl owing paint. The fox escapes after Mole, emerging from the can, scares it with its specter-like appearance. The Mole fancies play-ing a ghost and its “spooky” gestures are accompanied with the musical motifs similar to the old rhetorical fi gures (the paranormal activity illustrated with e.g., tremolando of the synthesizer). The Mole scares the mouse, too. But having realized what happened, he bursts with a shrill laugh (treble fl ute and the highest notes in the piano). Then the Mole gets the idea to paint the mouse with vivid colors and each successive stroke of its brush is perfectly rendered as the short piano glissando (in the highest register of the piano). The successive layers of that camoufl age are accompanied by the closed musical phrases. The bassoon plays a lively and grotesque, quasi-Shostakovich polka in 2/4 meter and the

8 He composed the music to the fi rst episode in the series. Stylistically, it resembles the symphonic soundtracks to the contemporary cartoons produced in the Soviet Union by I Dunajewskij, A. Alek-sandrow or A. Wolkonskij.

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sequence of the intervals “deconstructs” the tonal harmony refl ecting the “creepy humor” of the Mole. The polka theme alternates with the squeaky “mouse theme” (the mouse ap-parently enjoys its new appearance). Then, it is interrupted with a fl ute sound – the birds sing and the fox sneaks to their nest (a shortened repetition of the “fox theme”). However, the Mole and mouse drive the fox off with their aggressively pied appearance (the fl y of the fox is accompanied by its theme). Consequently, the birds talk to their rescuers and decide to have themselves painted (dialogue of the fl ute and clarinet).

The musical background of the process of repainting diff ers to the previous themes, as it is a wide-phrase melody whistled to the discreet accompaniment of the percussion. Merry and fully tonal, it seems to refer to the labor songs.9 The birds fl y away (fl ute theme imitating their twitter), yet many more animals – among others frogs hedgehog, squir-rel and various birds – want to change their color. The process of painting is therefore intensifi ed, so more instruments is involved. Initially, the electric guitar solo is played, but it is fi nally replaced with harmonica solo when a hare is painted to resemble a tiger. That fashion show is almost carnival-like with regard to the related soundtrack (high notes on the trumpet with the guitar accompaniment). With the appearance of the Mole the bassoon and bird motifs are once again played. The Mole leads the painted animals against the fox hiding behind a cut tree (the “fox theme” made more rough by means of the “alarming” sounds of the synthesizer). The night falls. After the brief introduction the optimistic “painting theme” is played once again – this time some plants are painted. The dawn is indicated with the “fashion show theme” (French horn solo). The fox, hid-den in the tree hollow, cautiously looks out (a syncopated half-tone cadence on trumpet and several sounds of electric guitar) illustrating how the fox is terrifi ed with a sudden change of the surroundings). The animals laugh at the fox (high notes in fl ute resembling the singing birds) and discuss which strategy to adopt (the separate sounds and eff ects produced with synthesizer). The hare digs into fox’s hideout and it fl ees scared by other animals (the surrealist atmosphere stems from electronic eff ects), which makes all the “wights” laugh (high notes in fl ute).

9 This kind of association seems to be the more empowered when we take into account the fact that the composer of the music for this episode – Miloš Vacek actually had mass songs in his œuvre, see Československý hudební slovník osob a institucí, red. Gracian Černušák, Bohumír Štědroň, Zdenko Nováček, Svazek druhý (Praha: SHN, 1965), 828–829.

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Fig. 1: The Mole as a Painter (Krtek malířem)

But in the end the rain washes the paint out (which is imitated by the very characteristic fuzzy sound fabric made with synthesizer and fl ute and consisting of the network of falling phrases). Fortunately, the dangerous fox fl ed and the animals dance triumphal waltz in a circle. The waltz is humorous owing to the use of the quite “heavy” instruments that are not typical of that dance – here, the trumpet solo seems not to be coincidental, because in the analyzed episode it is the core of the theme of the defeated fox.

The very specifi c feature of The Mole as a Painter is the use of leitmotifs10 – either independently or as a part of more complex musical structures. That refl ects the crucial points of the scenario and makes it more dynamic – appearing together with the parti-cular characters; (the composer, Miloš Vacek, used them again in some other episodes of Krtek). As a result, the music to Krtek is full of traditional musical topoi such as bird songs, fi gures of horror, the labor songs or the musical visions of the underworld, which makes it suggestive and almost literal in reception. However, the use of electronic instruments and avant-garde motifs11 is also signifi cant. The timbre of the instruments plays important role, too. Stylistically, the entire texture is hardly uniform as the musical material frequently changes and therefore the quite “fl at” segments alternate with the strong themes referring clearly to the specifi c dances or songs.

10 Zofi a Lissa points out that while in the the opera leitmotifs has not only informative function, but they also create form, in the fi lm the further integration of the whole work is entrusted to them – not only in terms of sound. Lissa, Estetyka muzyki fi lmowej, 306.

11 As Zofi a Lissa wrote in the 1960s: “The fact that in this genre [in cartoons] the experimental music, electronic and concrete, begins to play increasing role – tells us that some of this fi lms already belong to the category of experimental fi lms.” Lissa, Estetyka muzyki fi lmowej, 376.

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Reksio as a painter (Reksio malarz12) – music by Zenon Kowalowski

Just as the Mole, Reksio turns out to be a gifted painter. But his artistic adventure partially crosses the boundary of the human world and is more narrative, namely, the analyzed episode involves many secondary heroes and is in fact a series of events taking place in two worlds: the human and the animal. Here, in contrast to Krtek malířem the musical phrases resemble the classical music because they consist of regular sentences or even periods that are repeated, arranged in sequences or developed as variations. Despite the fact that the particular themes appear several times accompanying the plot, they are to a great extent an independent counterpoint to the presented events. The leitmotifs fi xed to the particular characters are almost nonexistent. Instead, the composer strives for showing the change of mood by means of referring to the traditional musical idioms (e.g., pastoral, heroic or military). Kowalowski tends to avoid using sound eff ects to illustrate the action. Sometimes he even uses a rebours eff ects (a dynamic chase illustrated with a silence). Generally, his music is tonal and chamber, devoid of sonoristic techniques.

Reksio as a Painter starts from the scene showing the dog dreaming in his kennel, which is typical of the whole series. The music underscores the optimistic atmosphere of the dawn (a simple phrase in major key played on the classical guitar to the subtle accompaniment of the strings con sordino and with a brief fl ute motif). Reksio yawns and the repetition of the phrase above takes place. However, it is interrupted, because the dog suddenly hears the sound of the heels: a man passes behind the fence carrying a picture under his arm. This is refl ected in the music (its rhythm becomes more complex, the guitar ceases to play – strings tremolo resounds instead). The melody is still optimistic, but the change of the rhythm, cast and articulation make it denser; owing to the tremolo the surprise seems to be in the air.

Then, Reksio follows the painter and they reach an art gallery (an energetic march fragment in duple meter), but because dogs are not allowed to enter he must stay outside. Reksio looks through the window and sees the artist showing his picture to other people who apparently appreciate it. Our dog hero starts dreaming of such esteem (a traditional dream bubble together with a single sound of the guitar resembling the striking clock, and three accords on the bass guitar standing for the “fate motif”).The fl ute plays a short motif similar to the previous march to the art gallery and Reksio is about to go home.

12 The analysis of that episode is an excerpt from the BA thesis of the Author (2013) prepared under the direction of dr hab. Magdalena Dziadek, cf. Katarzyna Babulewicz, Muzyka Zenona Kowalowskiego do wybranych odcinków serialu Reksio (Jagiellonian University in Kraków, 2013).

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Fig. 2: Reksio as a Painter (Reksio malarz)

In the next scene little boys paint primitive graffi ti on the wall. One of them scribbles, against the orthography, “Wacek jezd gópi” (Vaclav is stupid) and a caricature of a dog. Their mischiefs are illustrated by the infantile motif similar to a piano piece for beginners; it may recall also the sound of hurdy-gurdy due to the use of high notes on the glocken-spiel. That fragment fl uently turns into next by means of glissando (the eff ect used also in Krtek) of the glockenspiel and the solo fl ute (in the opposite direction); Reksio snarls at the mischievous boys to scare them and take their paints. His way home is merry (a dialogue of the fl ute and clarinet to the delicate accompaniment of the strings and bass guitar). Having returned to its yard, Reksio invites other animals to be his models. The composer depicts them by means of the music – taking into account their characters instead of the appearance. The fi rst is a turkey (its “pompous” entry illustrated with major second and when it ruffl es its feathers the fl ute plays the gamut). Then, a pig (bass clarinet and acoustic eff ects) and a hen (descending fourth sequence on the fl ute and clarinet) poses. Finally, a rooster appears. Its musical characteristics is more complex and refl ects its belligerent and commanding nature (very fast cadences of the fl ute alternating with the single sound of the clarinet or double stopping of the fl ute and clarinet – it is all played with the accompaniment of the bass guitar that resembles a military fanfare due to use of repeated triton; when the rooster fl exes its chest sharp bow strokes of the strings can be heard). Reksio decides to choose the rooster as the model and prepares itself for painting (the same fragment illustrated the dog hero taking its paints). The rooster waits stand-ing on a box. It imagines that it wears a military uniform (a quasi-military trumpet solo being the repetition of the introduction to the whole series – even the key is the same). Such “musical recycling” is a typical policy of the composer who uses the main motif from the intro for further variations and stylistic transfi gurations. In the meantime, the other cock appears. The low trill of the bass clarinet sounds and in response to it bass guitar plays the triton syncopated “rooster motif”. Then, the noisy cock fi ght breaks out,

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that struggle being perhaps the most violent fragment of the entire episode (the trumpet solo – a warlike instrument – repeats two motifs imitating the fi ghting cocks: each of those motifs is a clash of two quavers and a quarter note). Reksio is so busy painting that it reacts when instead of the warriors one can see a cloud of dust (it is refl ected in the music: only the chaotic pieces of the previous motifs resonate). Reksio separates the roosters from each other, but one of them has already lost its feathers. Some order is brought into the musical chaos i.e. only those fi gures are preserved that mock heroic motifs (the composer deconstructs the timbre of the instruments lowering their pitch). As a result, the painting remains unfi nished. Reksio puts it on the easel next to its kennel and goes to bed (a lyrical sequence resembling a lullaby). But it starts raining. To the Reksio’s despair, the canvas falls to the wet ground and turns into unrecognizable stain (the vibraphone plays the quarter note leap).

The dawn is announced by four already introduced measures (their dance-like rhythm accompanied the eccentric artist in beret). And indeed that artist appears. He fi nds the destroyed painting and, unexpectedly, is delighted with it (he thinks that Reksio created an abstract work and decides to take it to the art gallery). Again, Reksio and the painter walk the street – this time it is the human who ensues the dog; the music is the same as in the case of their former walk and when they enter the art gallery a mysterious hand squashes the “no dogs allowed” plate to let Reksio in (a rattling percussion). In other words, Reksio was recognized as an artist. He is given a diploma and is even tempted to sell the canvas (instead of the money it chooses sausage).

The whole situation is observed by a shady character. According to Włodzimierz Propp, it is a typical antagonist who wants to enrich himself selling Reksio’s paintings. The change of the music is a harbinger of the incoming events, as it becomes less regular and is more strictly subordinated to the particular events (which are faster and faster). The villain is then characterized with the dotted rhythm of the bass guitar, tremolo of the bass clarinet, rattling percussion, sharp strokes of the bow in the strings (or by exposing triton). Reksio is abducted and imprisoned in a cellar full of blank canvases. The villain gives him an order to paint and shuts the door. Reksio is fi rst dejected but quickly gets over the situation and invents the escape plan. (Zofi a Lissa wrtites: “It is true that the music would not give the content of someone’s decision, but it may signal it by its means.”13) Hence, the next musical sequence is regular and optimistic in mood (a fl ute sequence in major key). Reksio starts painting (the third repetition of the “painting motif”) a very realistic image of the prison window with bars ripped out. Having hung it on the wall, Reksio shouts “Haha!”. The villain returns to discover that his victim ran away through the window. Thanks to that trick, he faints and Reksio escapes – this time for real (the villain theme with the uneasy play of strings and bass guitar is brief and the moment of fainting is refl ected by the cease of the play of the strings, and the falling half-tone sequence of the clarinet and the stoke of the percussion; the rising half-tone sequence of the clarinet announces the opportunity to escape).

13 Lissa, Estetyka muzyki fi lmowej, 224.

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Reksio runs hurriedly along the street (his fast pace is rendered with a light musical texture, frullato of the fl ute and octave leaps). But the villain wakes up in the cellar and starts chasing the dog (an aggressive repeated trill of the bass clarinet together with the single, repeated sounds of the bass guitar). However, Reksio prepares another trap image near its kennel (once again, trill of the bass clarinet together with the sounds of the bass guitar). The process of painting is accompanied by the short phrases of the cla-rinet (half-tone) and single sounds of the fl ute (minor third) resembling an alarm signal. They contain also some element of surprise because one cannot see what exactly Reksio paints. The dog hides and the villain stands next to his kennel. He looks around (various percussion instruments; the sequence is irregular – pianissimo turns into mezzo-forte and then into piano: therefore, the loud tutti in the half-tone triplets is so contrastive). The mentioned tutti is an illustration to the scene in which Reksio suddenly shows the villain the poster with a monster with the open jaws. The shady character screams and escapes. Yet he turns back from time to time and subsequently hits a lantern. In the coda of the whole episode the composer used the last phrase of the motif being a background of the fi rst trip of Reksio to the art gallery. This time, nevertheless, it comprises a fourth played on vibraphone – perhaps it stands for a prize.

The Mole in the Desert (Krtek na poušti, 1975) – music by Vadim Petrov

Not all adventures of the Mole take place in the forest. The hero pays also visit to the nearby village14 and city15. He comes to a school to rescue the hedgehog.16 Once he visits the movie set.17 On the other hand, in the episode entitled The Mole in a Dream the protagonist fi nds a way to very modern household containing many devices resembling science-fi ction movies (that particular episode, beneath the cartoon surface, is quite serious, as it analyzes the issue of the confl ict between the nature and civilization and the impossibility of the return to the former). Twice the Mole takes a voyage to very exotic places. One of them is an uninhabited island18 (by means of the rocket), whereas the other is a desert.

How is it possible? It is a sheer luck: the Mole leaves his heap about the landing pad for helicopters. The Mole admires the fl ying machine to the sound of the “voyage theme” – that theme consists of optimistic, vivid and regular musical passages in duple meter clearly resembling the Czech folk music19 (especially due to the use of the accordion

14 See The Mole and the TV, 1970, dir. Z. Miler, mus. M. Vacek. 15 See np. The Mole in the Town, 1982, dir. Z. Miler, mus. V. Petrov. 16 See The Mole and the Hedgehog, 1970, dir. Z. Miler, mus. M. Vacek.17 See The Mole as a Movie Star, 1988, dir. Z. Miler, mus. V. Petrov.18 See The Mole and the Rocket, 1965, dir. Z. Miler, mus. Milan Kymlička.19 In this case, the association of folk music is so similar with the considerations of Iwona Sowińska

concerning the essence of folk music in fi lms produced in PRL: “Regardless of the type of portrayed

16

which is typical instrument of it). Its mood is underscored by virtue of the dotted rhythm and funny accompaniment of the bass guitar. Then, the theme is repeated in higher register and developed by the clarinet whereas the accordion part is repeated as refrain. The Mole discoveres the backpack under the helicopter and, just for fun, slips into its pocket. The automatic arm takes the backpack on board and the helicopter takes off . The “voyage theme” (together with the whirr of the engine) sounds in the background of the aerial view of the landscape, sea, port and, at last, the desert. The helicopter drops the back backpack on the parachute in order to supply the research station (one can see the tents, metal boxes, the wooden box with the inscription “expedition” and, perhaps, electric pylons or transmitters). Immediately after landing, the musical theme is replaced with the voices of the blowing wind (and of one device). The single sounds of the guitar and trills of the clarinet illustrate the surprise of the Mole, as the hero discovers that the station is abandoned. Here, the main adventure begins – together with the brand new musical background. The composer adapts the music to the Arabian style by the con-ventional means such as monotonous dynamics, the use of the Gypsy scale (with raised seconds), building the melody with the empty fi fths of the woodwind instruments (fl ute, clarinet), as well as using the technique of double repetition of the phrases in octave imitation. Apart from that, the composer uses the so called bolero rhythmic formula in the accompaniment (which is of the Spanish and not the Arabian origin). The “desert theme” is played on the clarinet to the syncopated drum hits (the particular drums are diff erently tuned) resembling the complex African rhythms. The Mole wanders through the desert and the heat quickly exhausts him. The hero sees the water, but of course it is a mirage (the voices of the triangle and vibraphone – when the Mole is about to “drink” the triangle, guitar and vibraphone imitate the sound of the fl owing water, yet the the mirage rapidly disperses and simultaneously the desert theme returns). At last, the Mole reaches the well but it turns out to be sand-fi lled and thus useless. It discovers also the tracks of multiple large animals. It decides to follow them (a succinct accompaniment of the percussion – the desert is dry). From the top of a sand dune the Mole observes the inhabitants of the desert: a monkey, zebra, camel, giraff e, ostrich and lion. The lion is obviously the one which stands above all other animals because it sleeps on the bank of the small pool protecting the miserable amount of water, whereas its “subjects” wait for their turn. At the sight of wild animals the orchestration of the “desert theme” undergoes a change and is no longer exotic and mysterious, but sounds as a threat (heavy electric guitar solo and short sounds of the clarinet). However, the Mole seems to be unaware of a danger. He waves his hands, trustfully approaches and starts drinking the water. The angry lion drives him off with a snarl. The Mole returns to the sand-up well and come to the idea to fi x it (the brainwave illustrated with the clarinet trill). He puts his ear to the ground to check if the water still fl ows underneath. It occurs that the well is to mend. Luckily, the Mole has his faithful shovel. The musical background becomes more energetic

environment the folk music was always associated with free time. It meant spontaneous joy and a sense of familiarity.” Sowińska, Polska muzyka fi lmowa 1945–1968, 77.

17

due to the bolero-like accompaniment. The melody is led, alternately, by the fl ute and clarinet to the guitar ostinato (descending half-tones); it resembles an exotic dance. Of course, the Mole does not dance but work pretty hard.

Fig. 3: The Mole in the Desert (Krtek na poušti)

Owing to his skills in digging underground tunnels, he briskly removes all the sand block-ing the well and reaches even deeper layers of the soil. Then suddenly someone fi lls the well up with sand again (it is an elephant: its direct appearance is preceded with new, much slower melody played on the trombone). The Mole convinces the elephant to remove the sand with its trunk (the mechanical nature of that work is refl ected in the octave imitation of the “Arabian motifs”). When it is too deep for the elephant to use the proboscis, the giraff e starts working instead (quasi-dance theme). Finally, the well starts to fi ll up with water. The Mole is raised by it and the giraff e recovers him with a bucket. All the animals had already gathered around the well to drink water together (an exotic dance, but this time the orchestration is enhanced with the trombone because the elephant is also present). The Mole hears the helicopter (and the swinging, European melody of the accordion returns). It runs to slip into the backpack and the grateful animals wave to bid him farewell. The noble Mole, which frequently helps the forest animals to get through multiple troubles in one piece, this time brought help to the inhabitants of the desert. Perhaps he has shared the high ideal of equality of all the citizens of the world.

The analyzed episode is not only clear with regard to the ideological meaning (the solidarity, unity and collaboration enable the people to achieve the common goal) but its musical structure is simple. It is a reprise structure ABA coherent with the plot. The A sequence refl ects the journey to and from the desert. The B sequence pertains to the events in the desert. However, that symmetry regards not only the entire framework, but also the internal musical sequences which are periodical and regular musical phrases developed with the classical techniques (repetition, contrapuntal dialogue of the motifs,

18

variations). The composer has adopted almost the same strategy as Zenon Kowalowski in the Reksio as a Painter, because in both cases the music is largely independent to the shown events (the good example is the fact that the moment when the water spurts from the well is not refl ected in the soundtrack). In other words, the music is intended to il-lustrate the mood invoked by the visual images. Hence, the helicopter fl ight is connected with typical Czech popular music whereas the desert is accompanied by the quasi-Spanish and quasi-Arabian motifs. The musical imitation is also sparing (the voice of the elephant and the shouts of joy when the well is fi xed).

Reksio as a Mountaineer (Reksio taternik, 1972) – music by Zenon Kowalowski

Just like the Mole, Reksio sometimes goes for various trips. He visits the city,20 the local zoo,21 dog heritage park and even the museum.22 He spends the holidays with his master,23 takes a dream voyage to an uninhabited island24 and real voyage to the outer space.25 One day he enters the mountain trail.

The analyzed episode begins at dawn. Reksio has not woken up yet, but the previous fragment showing the sunrise over the mountains is an unambiguous sign that the who-le plot will be connected with the Tatras. The fl ute intonates a melody typical for the Podhale26 region and resembling the sound of shepherd’s pipe. Reksio snores but the wan-derer (who appears only in this episode) with a backpack whistles to wake him up. The noise makes other people angry (it is still an early morning and they want to sleep) and they throw pots and fl ower pots at Reksio (the chaotic sounds of wind instruments and percussion; after that humorous intermezzo the lyrical “mountain trip” theme returns). In the next scene the dog and the wanderer follow the mountain trail. Here, the music is diff erent, but it refers to the folklore of the Podhale even more clearly (the melody is played on the bagpipes to the fi fth notes of the strings as an accompaniment; it is once again a brilliant self-parody of the initial theme of the series – this time humorous, as it is based on the specifi c acoustic scale typical of the Podhale music). The fi rst obstacle for the tourists is a ram whose vile character is illustrated with sharp strokes of the bow (even before it appears). Once confronted it looks daggers at the wanderers and the melody ceases to sound. Reksio and the tourist try to pass the ram (the use of the single sounds of the windpipe instruments and percussion underscores the danger). Their success is

20 See Reksio as a Benefactor, 1970, dir. L. Marszałek, mus. A. Markiewicz.21 See Reksio as a Teacher, 1969, dir. L. Marszałek, mus. B. Pasternak.22 See Reksio as a Guide, 1977, dir. L. Marszałek, mus. Z. Kowalowski (during the visit in the museum

one can hear the baroque music)23 See Reksio as a Wanderer, 1972, rez. J. Ćwiertnia, mus. Z. Kowalowski.24 See Reksio as a Castaway, 1973, dir. L. Marszałek, mus. Z. Kowalowski.25 See Reksio as an Astronaut, 1972, dir. L. Marszałek, mus. Z. Kowalowski. 26 The Polish Tatra Highlands.

19

temporary, but for the time being they may wander further their way (a short sequence resembling a highland march – the fi fth notes of the fl ute to the rhythmical accompani-ment of the percussion). Together they reach a mountain stream. Here, the tourist falls into it and starts drowning. The sound of fl owing water is mixed with the short, dramatic dialogues of the fl ute with the oboe and clarinet (with the additional tremolando of the strings – a conventional horror fi gure). Reksio cannot save the man alone so he runs to the ram looking for help. The ram phlegmatically chews the grass (yet its sight is dangerous owing to the syncopated trumpet motifs based of fi fths). After the alarming trills the ram starts chasing Reksio instead of answering its beggings, but in its fury it hits the tourist and subsequently throws it out the stream saving his life. The unconscious mountaineer lies on his back (which is a bad omen – a descending sequence of the repeated half-tones of the synthesizer). Fortunately, Reksio knows how to resuscitate the man and he comes around (short, low sound of the clarinet). In the next scene the “mountain trip theme” returns and the sound of the bagpipes accompanies the further steps of Reksio and the tourist. They are much higher now and their trail has become steep, rocky and snowy. Moreover, they are unaware of the fact that they are followed by the ram. Suddenly the mountaineer loses the balance and starts sliding down the icy slope (that particular frag-ment is close to the stylistics typical of Disney’s27 cartoons: the alarming sounds of the trumpet and percussion precede the descending sequence of sounds of the xylophone; the synthesizer is also present here). When the man reaches the part of the trail still un-covered with ice the clarinet trill announces the ram waiting for its prey. The man tries to escape but he chooses exactly the same way as before and the Mickey Mouse eff ect returns (his moves are synchronized with the ascending progression of the trumpet and, when the man reaches somewhat higher ground – oboe). The ram is now about to charge (its war theme by the trumpet) whereas the mountaineer almost reached Reksio that gives him its paw (double frullato of the oboe). The man once again falls down (to the precise windpipes glissando and descending tones of the xylophone) and bounces off the horns of the ram, which, however, allows him to pass the icy path. The next stage of the trip is accompanied by the clarinet melody (a variation of the “mountain trip” theme, this time devoided of the strings playing fi fths). The trail requires the tourists to use the ladder and climb to the higher rocky terrace. The mountaineer helps Reksio up for the ladder steps are slippery (as early as here the syncopated fi fths of the trumpet sound). Reksio marches alone for a moment (the oboe sounds) but quickly retreats because the ram blocks the path above the ladder (less heroic clarinet can be heard). The man who does not see the ram yet, laughs and decides to climb alone (a humorous passage full of the repeated notes in the high register of the fl ute) but he is also forced to fl ee and fells from the terrace (a strike of the percussion; the light motif of the fl ute is now taken by the trumpet). The mountaineer invents a way to outwit the antagonist. The music plays accelerando when he

27 Zofi a Lissa, analyzing Disney’s music, which is completely synchronized with the image makes the following observation: “[…] its perfect adequacy to the picture already has itself something of the world of fairy tales, fantasy, unreality.” Lissa, Estetyka muzyki fi lmowej, 375.

20

fi nds a bough, puts its hat on it and hurls it as if he use a mountain ring (whose sound is audible). It provokes the ram to charge straightforward up to the icy slope where it cannot stop and slides down. The friends are then safe (a short fragment referring more to the entire series than to the particular episode) and wander while the fl ute plays the idyllic melody (to the accompaniment of high register of the piano – the damper pedal is used). The clarinet trills suggest that not all the obstacles were overcome. There is a deep crack in the trail and the tourist falls into it. Reksio panics. A dynamic fragment (consisting of the repeated half-tone of the clarinet that bears partial resemblance to the emergency signal) alternates with the massive tutti (multiple instruments raise a clamor). Reksio runs for help to the chalet (the orchestra sounds very aggressive: no instrument is silent, the fl ute repeatedly plays a high note, then the fl ute and the trumpet make an ascending passage to stress the fact that the dog heads a mountain rescuer’s house. But inside the music is very diff erent: the rescuer sleeps like a log (snoring to the accompaniment of the piano ragtime, perhaps from the radio). Reksio successfully wakes him up imitating the sound of emergency alert. When they run together to help the tourist the dramatic musical chaos returns (the triols are worth noticing). Then the rescuer ignores the bleating of the ram and it pushes him to the same crack into which the victim fell. As a result Reksio is forced to rescue not only the tourist but also the professional rescuer. He is fi rst angry at the ram. Then he wraps a rope around its horns, throws is loose end to the entrapped men (single tones of the fl ute), and provokes the ram to begin the chase (the charge theme). The ram angrily follows Reksio and fi nally hits the rock. In the meantime, it unintentio-nally pulls the men from the hole. The humorous music is a background of the scene in which the ram, the rescuer and the tourist recover from the sustained injuries and shock. Then Reksio shows the rescuer what happened and clearly stresses the role of his wit (stronger than muscles). The dog hero is awarded with the rescuer’s cross.28 The fi nal coda refers to the “mountain trip” but is almost devoided of the highland stylization (the traces of such stylization are still visible in the cadences; perhaps the composer found it more convenient to choose more “European” piece for the moral of the episode, because it seemed to be easier to grasp than more “uncouth” highland music.

With regard to the music, the analyzed episode is signifi cant and very intriguing. First of all, Kowalowski closely adapted the music to the musical style typical of the Podhale (the melodies based of the “highland scale”, using empty fi fths in the accompaniment, the rhythm of the highland march, and the orchestration including bagpipes, fi ddle, pipes and shepherd’s bells). Apart from that, he made many fragments illustrating the particular events, especially falling and sliding down. Such solutions inevitably lead to the musical imitation of the movement of the characters. This time it was possible not only because of the choice of the mountainous terrain for a background, but also due to the fabular scheme involving the constant play between the protagonists and the “persecutor” (the ram). Therefore, the musical texture of that episode is very heterogeneous and comprises

28 Reksio helps various characters in most of the episodes. Even as an actor it plays the role of the rescuer dog saving the mountaineer. See Reksio aktor, 1972, dir. J. Ćwiertnia, mus. Z. Kowalowski.

21

many smaller fragments of “local” use. Neither leitmotifs nor musical framework themes are used, but, once again, the composer “recycles” the music to the initial credits as a form of intelligent musical parody.

The Mole and the Music (Krtek a muzika, 1974) – music by V. Petrov

The fourteenth episode of Krtek has unusual beginning. The Mole, apparently relaxed, rests in his comfortable hole and listens to the music form the gramophone. He lies on his back with hands behind his head. Only due to the gentle swing of his leg we know that the Mole doesn’t sleep. It turns out that the hero, like humans, enjoys the music hardly available in the forest (the piano ragtime in 2/4 meter to the subtle accompaniment of the percussion – the rhythm is provided with the tuba).

But the relax is interrupted by the mouse that rings the doorbell: the heart of the Mole leaps into its mouth. It turns out that it is blowing a gale outside. The mouse is pu-shed by the wind in and thrown at the opposite wall together with the gramophone (the fi nal fragment of the ragtime is so deconstructed that it sounds like a screech, especially blended with the mourning sound of the wind). The Mole shuts the door (it is not easy) and discovers that his record is broken. He takes the useless fragments from the fl oor and sadly says “ach jo”. In the next scene the depressed Mole sits on the top of its heap and the mouse tries to comfort him by bringing him various round objects which may replace the shattered record e.g. a button, a cap or a clock gear. However, the sound of the clarinet is now so cheerful that the spectators must suspect the Mole to take his loss too seriously29 (the ascending progression seems to perfectly match the musical narrative concerning a several-stage task). And indeed, the hero sees two red objects landing nearby (their appearance is underscored with the leap of the perfect fourth in the xylophone, which makes a cadence leading to the end of the current musical fragment in which the clarinet was a solo instrument). The new fragment starts from the fi ne and closed passage of the fl ute containing eight note triplets and the gruppetto. The Mole looks up and discovers that it is the bullfi nch sitting on the tree that sings. Its concerto is short (it fl ies away in the middle of the repetition of the phrase in the progression – another instrument fi nishes it). When the bird sings, the red notes fall down to the ground. The Mole takes one of them and it turns out that one may ring it as if it were a bell. After the bullfi nch, an owl performs (the melody is analogical to the bullfi nch’s aria with regard to the meter, key and dance character, and it cause the grey notes to fall down – according to the color of the singer’s feathers). The next soloist is a blackbird, a professional violin player able to play fast triplet passages, glissandos and grace notes. The fourth singer is a hoopoe with a beautiful orange crest which plays the bagpipes (its passage is rustic and

29 This way composer avoided a situation that Michel Chion calls illusion of redundancy – according to the researcher, although the interaction of image and sound is based on synchronization, they should not unnecessarily duplicate each other. Piotrowska, O muzyce i fi lmie, 45.

22

folk-like). In that band a woodpecker is, of course, responsible only for the percussion. The above-mentioned concerto results in more colorful notes on the ground and the short optimistic motif having the function of a cadence (vibraphone + percussion). That particular passage is base on the melodic progression, which suggestively shows how rich is the bird “harvest”: there are several heaps of notes, each one from other bird. The cadence seamlessly turns into the theme that can be heard after the shattering of the record up to the bird concerto. The Mole and the mouse collect the notes to their mugs and other vessels as if they collect the berries (a dialogue of the fl ute and violin – despite the fact that the motif is repeated, this time the orchestration changes in order to give the percussion more prominent role, perhaps in order to imitate more monotonous work). The music ceases to play for a moment when all the notes are collected and the Mole says triumphal “aha”, because he knows exactly what to do. Now, the fl ute plays the already known prelude once again. The protagonists knead the notes in a bowl as a dough and roll it out. The Mole copes with the red whereas the mouse manages with the yellow ones (because the yellow notes were produced by the hoopoe, one can hear the sound of bagpipes now – there is no doubt that the change in orchestration was purposeful). Similarly, the act of cutting the musical dough by the Mole is accompanied by the fl ute (the bullfi nch played it). Here comes the musical joke, namely, the Mole is tempted to taste the mysterious dough (instead of the fl ute the clarinet plays the alarming trill) and he does it. As a result, the Mole belches with a bell sound. The mouse brings new colorful balls (after the grey one the tube – the owl’s property – is for a moment a leading instru-ment). The Mole and the mouse join the pieces of the musical dough together to create the gramophone record (the same musical passage introduced by the fl ute). The record turns out to be functional and for the third time the diegetic music sounds being the core of the “bird concerto”. It is, nevertheless, in ¾ meter and resembles the waltz. The tones of the vibraphone subtly creates the mood. The joyful Mole dances.

The detailed analysis of that episode was intended to show how seriously the composer treated the music as a certain phenomenon and issue. According to that episode, listening to the music is a complex process. First, the noisy ragtime appears hardly consistent with the nature (perhaps it is a symbol of the civilization). After the accident, the recording must be reconstructed, but this time the “raw materials” are natural. The new record is then a better synthesis (the delighted Mole dances). Therefore, the shattering of the fi rst record brings a positive change. It is not a coincidence that the composer used the waltz in the fi nal scenes. The waltz has folk origins but in the European tradition it was commonly used as an illustration of the merry and serene opera scenes. In the musical literature it is often connected with the pristine nature (e.g., The Waltz of the Flowers by Tchaikovsky or The Blue Danube Waltz by Strauss). It is hardly a coincidence also that the title of the whole episode is The Mole and the Music and not, for instance, “The Mole Listens to the Birds” or “The Mole and the Gramophone”. It suggests that the real topic of the episode is the evolution of the attitude of the main character towards the art of music (all moles can, in fact, hear very well). Initially the Mole seems to be very much assimilated with the culture (which is the highest product of the civilization – and the latter is hostile to

23

the animal). But his mourning over the broken record is short. It may be easily replaced with the real music, the forest one.30

Regarding the musical texture, one should stress the fact that the three most important fragments (the ragtime, the “Mole at work” theme and the waltz) are very diff erent to one another, but they are coherent and share the common motifs. Similar to The Mole in the Desert, the music is inseparable from the visual side of the cartoon. It was a small masterpiece of composition to render the voices of the birds with the musical language and make them one symphony. Simultaneously, the musical path is autonomous, which is refl ected in the macro-form constructed according to the rules of musical composition, based on similarity and contrast.

Reksio as a Singer (Reksio śpiewak, 1975) – music by Zenon Kowalowski

Reksio is a domestic animal. Being a faithful friend, the guardian of the yard, and the defender of the weak, he seldom faces the threats of civilization. Perhaps it is because Reksio imitates the man and plays various human roles. In the particular episodes of the series he becomes an actor, fi reman, magician, or even composer.

The episode entitled Reksio as a Singer has a typical starting point: the dog hero, quite sleepy, leaves his wooden kennel with pitched roof and looks in all directions as if he hardly know where to go. Finally, he merrily goes along the fence. The scene does not contain any clue regarding the future events, but is accompanied with a short musical fragment played by the electric guitar. It is not particularly memorable (even if regular) but is intended to build the tension – because it seems to precede something less opaque (a delicate suggestion that something is in the air is hidden in the fl ute trills in the end of the phrase). About the gate Reksio hears the horrible sound of the “murdered” violin. It follows the dissonance and fi nds out that the false notes come through the half-opened window. Reksio looks inside and discover that his master (a blond boy) practices the vio-lin. Despite the fact he has a music stand and keeps the instrument properly (and the fact that he fi nds his play to be perfect), he knows nothing about playing correctly. When his fourth changes its pitch several times, Reksio howls it correctly (in other words, the dog

30 The Mole was also mourning over another gizmo i.e. the camera. But the hero quickly understood that instead of taking the photos it may draw the portraits of forest families. (See The Mole as a Photographer, 1975, dir. Z. Miler, mus. V. Petrov). The Mole usually is surprised by new inventions and tries to take care of them as of living animals (See e.g., The Mole and the Telephone, 1974, dir. Z. Miler, mus. V. Petrov). The civilization in the series is always something negative, either directly (See The Mole in the Town, 1982, dir. Z. Miler, mus. V. Petrov), or indirectly (as in the episode Krecik i telewizor, 1970, dir. Z. Miler, mus. M. Vacek, where the tv advertises the means killing moles posing a grave threat to our hero. In contrast, in Reksio the dog and its master watch the popular bedtime story for children – See Reksio Watches the TV, 1972, dir. E. Wątor, mus. Z. Kowalowski).

24

has an ear for music and we may assume that this time he should become a musician31). The young apprentice, uniterrupted, continues and exchanges the greetings with the dog (Reksio entered the room). However, he is upset when Reksio accompanies him and is irritated when he sings solo. He decides to literally thumb at Reksio’s nose (tremolando of the minor second) and commands the dog to leave. For a short moment the non-diegetic music returns (two guitar accords to the accompaniment of the vibraphone; it is a kind of cadence referring to the half-tones heard while thumbing dog’s nose) and the boy practices again. Reksio is not obedient and remains in the room – it is harder and harder because his master plays completely out of tune.

When Reksio once again sings clearly, the boy throws him out. Reksio sits under the window and accompanies the false notes (it is so unbearable experience that Reksio is convulsed). The notes from the falsely played gamut almost bury the dog. After the ca-dence of the fl ute Reksio fi nally feels insulted and, barking, leaves the place (his master hits him with a fl ower pot). Far away from the home yard, he enters the diff erent musical world: in the neighbourhood a girl practices the piano, which is refl ected in the diff erent pitch of the instrument, in the diff erent musical texture, and in much better performance. Despite the fact that the girl is a performer, she ceases to play to clap her hands at Reksio singing under her window (Reksio improvises a short counterpoint to fi nish of the piano phrase). As one can see now, Reksio is able to sing in a duet, too. He is, however, shy and cannot believe he raised an applause. Thus, he enters her home and his unfi nished phrase is played by the clarinet. Now, for a moment, the dog and the girl practice together (she accompanies and the dog sings). The piece sung by Reksio is rhytmically simple and contains largely second to third movements (the themes of the boy, the girl and the dog are motivically interconnected and are all in 2/4 meter). The duet suggest also the power of music to reconcile, as the pigeons appear surrounded with the heart of fl owers. But the idyllic mood quickly dwindles because in the next scene one can see the kennel again. The boy wants Reksio to leave the doghouse and to retrieve (despite the accompaniment of the guitar, the melody of the fl ute is so imbued with trills that the next complication is about to occur). After that passage, the music gains even more importance because it is the Reksio’s song that may lead the boy to the girl’s home (and to fi nd his dog). For the next time Reksio sings to the piano accompaniment, but the musical piece is interrupted. The boy commands Reksio to return home (the same fragment to which the boy looked

31 According to Zenon Kowalowski, in that episode it was the biggest issue to play the false notes credibly. He said: “I conducted perfect musicians. How could they imitate the boy practicing the violin? I told them to play that fragment in a manner of a child who does not care about the pitch. The professional musicians turned out to be unable to do that. At last, we took and amateur who zealously wanted to show how good he is. And his false notes were brilliant. The professionals were not genuine, not credible – no matter how much they strove. Because in that case one should have try to play it but in vain. The professionals knew too much how to do it and they were only able to deliberately destroy the beauty, which was audible. After half a day somebody told that there is one man playing the violin who is eager to show us how he plays. And that man did the trick.” The statement by the composer from the interview with the Author (8 December 2012, Katowice).

25

for the dog in its kennel). Reksio obedietly retrieves the stick. But he is unwilling to do that again and instead chooses the role of the musician (Reksio disappears and the musical work for the piano and solo voice explains where he escaped). His master must then pull Reksio along to fi ght the dog’s resistance (the clarinet phrase, typical of the kennel, becomes less regular and is performed more slowly; the single guitar glissandos imitate the paws of Reksio sliding at the ground). Reksio is then insulted and refuses retrieving despite his master’s attempts (the confl ict is illustrated by means of the fl ute phrase with trills – the main motif of that phrase is repeated in the progression, which raises the tension). Finally, the boy picks the dog up and takes home where he starts practicing the same melody (without the audible improvement). It is precisely the moment in which it turns out that the boy is jelous of his dog and therefore he tooks it from the girl. The boy wants Reksio to sing to his accompaniment (and imitates Reksio’s manner of singing). But the dog leaps out through the window to avoid hearing the false notes. The boy is angry but he decides not to surrender (he hits the window-sill with his fi sts and the clarinet persistently repeats the half-tone; other instruments join it). The boy starts practicing the scale. The use of ascending progression refl ects his improvement: he plays more and more fast and clear. The fi nal scene of the episode underscores the importance of practicing the instrument. Reksio and the girl perform their vocal-instrumental cantilene. Then, the boy with the violin comes to the window and when they are about to fi nish their phrase he improvises a cadence and plays the melody that he practiced from the very beginning of the episode. This time he is able to play it clearly. Additionally, it seamlessly wreaths their composition. Afterwords, the boy plays a solo piece for the violin. Reksio and the girl appreciate it, ceasing to play. Reksio once again leaps through the window but this time to sing a new melody (somewhat resembling the previous piano piece). Its master accompanies it, quite professionally. Then, the girl starts a new motif that is more dif-fi cult. The violin soloist responds with beautiful glissandos and variations on the previous melody. He adds also some percussion eff ects striking the fence and watering can with his bow. He tap-dances. While playing, he is constantly running with his dog (which no longer sings but barks). In other words: practice makes perfect. The coda ends with the introduction of the narrative element into the music – the dialogue between the violin and the fl ute is a synthesis of the diegetic and non-diegetic music. The boy puts the violin away and hugs his dog, because the friendship is more important than the mastery.The musical conclusion is typical of many episodes of the series (the fl ute with the accompa-niment – the last notes are played on the vibraphone).

26

Fig. 4: Reksio as a Singer (Reksio śpiewak)

The issue of the singing dog is quite interesting. In other episodes Reksio only barks hoarsely. It is a suprise that he is an owner of pure and high-pitched voice. Moreover, he is not obliged to practice as his master.32

In the analyzed episode the composer wanted to use the parody and stylization to depict the real process of practicing the instrumental works. The characters are two children far from musical mastery and the episode is quasi-pedagogical with regard to the repertoire. Reksio as a Singer is similar to The Mole and the Music in its deeper message: it is an encouragement to play the music together in order to socialize with other people (music is one of the oldest and most basic occasions to do that and the composer wanted to show how natural it is – typical even for the animals). In both the Czech and Polish cartoon the main framework consists in presenting the musical material solo to join it together into symphonic or choral form at the end of the episode.

The comparison of the three pairs of the episodes from the cartoons produced about the same time and in the similar cultures shows how inventive were the composers and how many tools they fi nally used. Moreover, as stated Iwona Sowińska: “Through music fi lm opens itself to the cultural (or even: civilization) context, in a way which is unique and worthy of attention […].”33

Composers provided the cartoons for children with illustrative fragments, with more advanced symbolism rooted in the traditional musical topoi and also with the autonomous musical images referring to the imagination of the audience. The symbolic function is in-herent not only in the orchestration but also in all the structural components of the music such as harmony, scale, meter or rhythm. Regarding the collaboration of the music and

32 Surprisingly, it was the composer who sang the role of Reksio (high register was obtained by means of accelerating the pace of the playback.

33 Sowińska, Polska muzyka fi lmowa 1945–1968, 11.

27

visual layers, they used simple homology but also the advanced solutions stressing their mutual independence. The composers were technically well prepared and original. More importantly, they knew how to speak to the imagination and emotions of the children. Vadim Petrov said : “My music is close to children with their specifi c perception and sen-sitivity […] People have liked the favorite music of their childhood all their lives. It should be a prize for the composer. Even the people who are in their fi fties have liked the music to the cartoons, a memory from their salad days […] The most crucial diff erence between the music for children and adults is that the former requires something with changing rhythm and clear musical inventions. The music for adults must, on the other hand, infl uence the recipients psychologically […] Emotions in a good cartoon are expressed by means of the music and not by the visual background.”34 According to Zenon Kowalowski: “[the music] should be, of course, ambitious, but its convention should speak to children and support the understanding of the content […] One should not exagerrate with it […] The music for adults may involve bigger orchestra, and more advanced texture and composing tools. But in the case of the music for children one ought not to hamper them the reception. If the composer uses too sophisticated means, the children will focus solely on the sounds and not on other values. Therefore, the sound and images and eff ects must be in balance […] The composer must fi rst know which value or meaning is of utmost importance in the particular episode and then – underscore it wuth the music.”35

Translation: Piotr Plichta

In Search of Stylistic Idiom – Music to the Central-European Cartoons Krtek and Reksio

Abstract

This paper concerns the issue of music in two well-known twentieth-century series – Czechoslovakian Krtek (aired between 1957 and 2002) and Polish Reksio (1967–1990). My aim was to present the wealth of composer’s ideas – how they provided the fi lms not only with illustrative fragments and interesting stylizations, but even with autonomous musical images. Soundtracks reveal excellent workshop of their authors, their original-ity and sense of humor. Sometimes we hear classical like music, another time it is even avant-garde. To show the similiarities and diff erences between artistic strategies (not only strictly musical) I choosed three pairs of cartoons (from both series) which action takes place in the similar surroundings or which refer to the suchlike questions. The article presents the conclusions from audiovisual analysis and therefore the description of music is inseparable from the plot. In the case of Krtek I present fi lms with music of

34 The statement of the composer from the correspondence with the Author (January 2016).35 The statement by the composer from the interview with the Author (8 December 2012, Katowice).

28

two composers – Miloš Vacek (1928–2012) and Vadim Petrov (1932), in case of Reksio it is one composer – Zenon Kowalowski (1939).

Hledání stylového idiomu – hudba ve středoevropských kreslených seriálech Krtek a Reksio

Abstrakt

Příspěvek se zabývá hudbou k známým animovaným seriálům dvacátého století – československému Krtkovi (vysílanému během let 1957 až 2002) a polskému seriálu Reksio (1967–1990). Cílem studie bylo představit bohatství hudebních myšlenek tvůrců hudebních doprovodů k zmíněným pořadům – jde nejenom o prvky hudebních ilustrací a stylizací, nýbrž také o autonomní hudební obrazy. Hudební doprovody ukazují invenci, originalitu i smysl pro humor svých tvůrců. Kombinují přístupy tradiční i avantgardní vážné hudby. S cílem ukázat podobnosti a rozdíly tvůrčích strategií (nejenom těch čistě hudebních) byly vybrány tři páry epizod (z obou seriálů), jejichž příběhy jsou zasazeny do podobného prostředí, případně mají shodné tematické soustředění. Závěry studie vycházejí z audiovizuální analýzy, přičemž refl exe hudby je vedena paralelně s popisem mimohudebních dějů. V případě seriálu Krtek je prezentována hudba dvou skladatelů – Miloše Vacka (1928–2012) a Vadima Petrova (1932), v případě seriálu Reksio jde o jed-noho skladatele – Zenona Kowalowského (1939).

Keywords

Music and animation; music to the Central-European cartoons; music to the Krtek; music to the Reksio; Miloš Vacek; Vadim Petrov; Zenon Kowalowski.

Klíčová slova

Hudba a animace; hudba k středoevropským animovaným seriálům; hudba k seriálu Krtek; hudba k seriálu Reksio; Miloš Vacek; Vadim Petrov; Zenon Kowalowski.

29

Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

On the Instrumentation of the Melody Line of Joseph Mysliveček’s Symphonies Nos. 42–47

Charris Efthimiou

Joseph Mysliveček was the only composer of Bohemian origin who successfully estab-lished himself in Italy at around 1770.1 His operas were performed in cities such as Naples, Milan, Padova and Venice and were very positively received by both critics and the public. He was friends with W. A. Mozart and L. Mozart. J. Mysliveček’s friend-ship with W. A. Mozart is demonstrated by his eff orts at organising a contract for his friend from Salzburg to compose an opera to be played in Teatro San Carlo in Naples.2 Unfortunately, J. Mysliveček died quite young, at the age of 44, after complications from a long-term disease.

Despite his short life, he composed numerous operas as well as a series of vocal and chamber music and orchestral works. His symphonies make up only a small part of his compositional repertoire. They were composed between 1762 and 1780 and the majority of them have the standard instrumentation of strings, two horns and two oboes. Angela Evans and Robert Dearling drafted a thematic catalogue of his instrumental and orches-tral works in 1999, something which is extremely important for an analysis of these works.3

1 Moritz Bauer, “Joseph Mysliveček,” in Musik und Geschichte in Gegenwart (Kassel: Bärenreiter-Verlag, 2004), 264–269.

2 Simon P. Keefe, “Joseph Mysliveček,” in The Cambridge Mozart Encyclopedia, ed. Cliff Eisen and Simon P. Keefe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 348–349.

3 Angela Evans and Robert Dearling, Josef Mysliveček (1737–1781). A Thematic Catalogue of His Instrumental and Orchestral Works (München and Salzburg: Musik Verlag Katzbichler, 1999).

30

There are several academic articles focused on his symphonies4 and the relationship between them and those of W. A. Mozart.5 The motivic, stylistic and formal aspects of his music are discussed and analysed in these articles and compared with other works by composers of the same period. There are no monographs, however, on the symphonic works by J. Mysliveček, although a number of his symphonies have been edited. The vast majority of his orchestral works can also be found as orchestral parts in various libraries around Europe. It is noteworthy that musicology has seldom occupied itself with the instrumentational aspects of his symphonies, although W. A. Mozart’s judgement on the instrumentation of his Bohemian friend was exceptionally positive.6

The aim of this paper is to examine the design of the melody line in J. Mysliveček’s Symphonies nos. 42–47 (ED. 10: D21, F8, Bb8, Eb6, G10 and C11) from a music-analytical perspective. The following aspects are presented in details: instrumentation of the bass line, octave doublings of the melody line within a movement, as well as the participation of the low strings and the brass section in the performance of the melody. The playing of the melody line in octaves and doublings, the participation of the lower strings and brass instruments in the performance of the melody, the relationship between the total number of the melody constellation within a part and those which are diff erent and the relationship between the number of melody constellations in the symphonic part and the number of bars in it are also some of the aspects which will be presented in detail.

Symphonies nos. 42–47 were composed around 1778 and have the standard instru-mentation (strings, two horns and two oboes).7 The orchestral parts which are used here are found in The National Library of the Czech Republic (CZ-Pu: 59R 243, 1–6). These symphonies will consequently be compared with the following opera symphonies from the same period which also have the same instrumentation, in order to fi nd diff erences and similarities between them: • ED. 10: G6: Romolo ed Ersilia (I Nc: 29. 3. 18–20), composed 1773.• ED. 10: Bb5: Artaserse (I Nc: 29. 4. 32–34), composed 1774.• ED. 10: D18: Il demofoonte (I Nc: 29. 3. 7–9), composed 1775.• ED. 10: C8: Ezio (I Nc: 29. 3. 10–12), composed 1775.• ED. 10: C12: L’Olimpiade (I Nc: 29. 3. 15–17), composed 1778.• ED. 10: D22: Calliroe (I Nc: 29. 3. 1–3), composed 1778.

Symphonies nos. 42–47 and the opera overtures (1773–1777) by J. Mysliveček will also be compared with W. A. Mozart’s symphonies (KV162, KV 199, KV 181, KV 183, KV 201

4 Rudolf Pečman, “The Mannheim School and Josef Mysliveček,” in Beiträge zur Mittel rheinischen Musikgeschichte 31, ed. Christine Heyter-Rauland and Christoph-Hellmut Mahling (Mainz: Schmidt, 1993), 75–83.

5 Wolfgang Gersthofer, Mozarts frühe Sinfonien (bis 1772): Aspekte frühklassischer Sinfonik (Salzburg: Internationale Stiftung Mozarteum, 1993).

6 Bauer, “Joseph Mysliveček,” 267.7 Evans and Dearling, Josef Mysliveček.

31

and KV 202) which were also composed during the same period and which also have the same instrumentation. I am not interested in demonstrating the suspected infl uences of Mozart in J. Mysliveček’s music, but in analysing his works from an over-arching perspec-tive and determining if these tendencies and templates describe a unique instrumentation style or not.

Before beginning this analysis, it is of great importance to sketch the relationship between various orchestral instruments and standard instrumentation between 1740 and 1780 (stings, two horns and two oboes). This instrumentation was crystallized at around 1740 and was the template for the conception of symphonies by many composers from diff erent geographic areas.8

Violins and oboes were the primary carriers of the melody between 1740 and 1770. The oboes originally doubled the strings (around 1740) but over the passage of time became increasingly independent. The bass is played by the cellos and double bases and even-tually by two bassoons.9 It is apparent as of 1770 that composers are beginning to write solo parts for cellos. Wood-winds were extended by fl utes and later by clarinets at around 1770.10 Up until that time, bassoons usually played along with the bass colla parte. After this point, there were always more independent bassoon parts (also in the tenor range).

Between 1740 and 1760 the brass instruments were not only composed of two horns, but there were also some symphonies with four horns and/or a number with two extra trumpets and timpani. These instruments usually played in tutti parts, where they played either long tones or had a signalling function.11

As already mentioned, the melody line of J. Mysliveček’s symphonies will be compared with those of W. A. Mozart from an over-arching perspective. Only when the instrumenta-tion and the form of the analysed works is identical and when the time window is relatively small (10–20 years), it is possible to obtain substantiated results from a comparative study.12 I will consequently only analyse the fi rst parts of the symphonies and the fi rst part of the opera overtures; pieces of this sort written in the mid-18th century actually had almost identical forms.

The tone-colours of the melody change within a symphonic movement several times. This results in a huge amount of data which describes the course of the instrumentation, which in turn makes the overview of such processes extremely diffi cult. It is therefore necessary to develop a system that illustrates the course of such tone-colour processes.

 8 Klaus Aringer, Instrumente und musikalischer Satz im Orchester der Wiener Klassiker Haydn, Mozart und Beethoven (Tübingen: University of Tübingen, 2003), 203.

 9 Aringer, Instrumente, 215.10 Ibidem, 245–277.11 Ibidem, 310–318.12 Jan Beran, Interdisciplinary Statistics: Statistics in Musicology, (London: Chapman and Hall, 2004).

32

The abstraction of the sound dispositions in tabular form has, on the one hand, the advantage (in terms of the large scale form) of clearly displaying the timbral processes on the one side. These kind of tables can provide information concerning the long-term trends of the instrumentation of the melody line that would otherwise remain hidden due to the large size of the symphony movement. The description of the tone-colour combinations of the melody line with symbols has, on the other hand, the advantage that one can compress all the tone-colour data of the symphonic movement into only a few lines. The review of these processes becomes much more diffi cult, however, as the data compression increases.

In order to achieve this specifi cally, there is a need to develop a system which com-presses as many tone-colour constellations in a clearer way on one side with tables. As a result, long-term tendencies are visible, something which would not be possible through the various diff erent changes of instrumentation from the beginning to the end of a movement.

Fig. 1a lists seven diff erent instrumentations of the melody line during the fi rst part of Symphony no. 43 (ED, 10: F8). The instruments which do not participate in the per-formance of the melody are not shown. The bar number of each distinct combination is also noted. Fig. 1b transfers the seven instrumentations in tabular form.

Various colours and symbols are introduced for the representation of the diff erent places where the melody is doubled in the octaves. The colour black indicates when a melody is doubling another one (bar 18, letter B), the colour gray signifi es the “octav-ing” (bar 39, letter D / bar 81, letter G) of a melody and the symbol “X” signifi es that a melody is played two octaves higher (bar 81, letter F, fi rst and second oboes).

In bars 1–2 (letter D) and 82–83 (letter E) the melody is played in thirds. For the transfer in tabular form (Fig. 1b) an extra column is inserted for reasons of clarity. The last row of the table describes the interval (third or sixth) where a melody is being played. The instruments are listed from top to bottom according to the arrangement of a modern score. The colours provide no information concerning the position, but describe the fi nal relation that the two melodies have.

33

Fig. 1a:

Fig. 1b:

situation A B C D E F G

Bar 14 18 1–2 39 82–83 81 81

ob. 1 ■ X

ob. 1 ■ X

hn. 1 ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■

vln. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vln. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vla. ■ ■

bass ■ ■

Interval third third

Fig. 2 attempts to consider the melody line of the fi rst part of Symphony no. 44 (ED, 10: Bb8) from an over-arching perspective and lists all the instrumentation changes of the melody line in tabular form.

Fig. 2 provides the following results:• All the instruments play the melody. • During the fi rst movement, the tone-colour of the melody changes 49 times. 14 of

them are diff erent, that is, 28,5% of them. • The fi rst part of Symphony no. 43 is 88 bars long and the tone-colour of the melody

changes 49 times. This change is consequently quite high. • There are combinations with only one (10), two (6), four (18) and fi ve or more (15)

instruments. 33 of the 49 combinations include four or more instruments. The melody line of this part is rich and full of tone-colours.

34

• 16 combinations are in unison, 18 are within one octave and 14 within two. This symphony movement is characterized not only by the constant tone-colour change, but also by the constant change in the density of the melody line.

• There are 22 combinations in thirds and sixths (including doublings). Of these 22, only 4 are in sixths. J. Mysliveček preference for the melody in thirds instead of in sixths is apparent.

• The fi rst violins play the melody alone fi ve times, the second violins fi ve times and both together six times. The tone-colour of the violins is not dominant here, the opposite being true for symphonies during the 1750s and 1760s. In contrast to composers of the mid-18th century,13 composers at the end of the 18th century reduced the dominance of violins due to the instrumentation of the melody line with the standard instrumenta-tion.

• The violas and double bases participate 15 times in the performance of the melody and the horns 7 times. This is another instrumentation characteristic which is typical for symphonies of the 1770s and not for orchestral works of the 1750s and 1760s.14

Fig. 2: J. Mysliveček, Symphony no. 44 (ED. 10: Bb8): complete tone-colour constella-tions of the melody line

Bar 1 1/2 1 3 4/6 5/7 6 7 8 11 13 16 19 21 23

ob. 1 ■ X X X ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■ X

ob. 1 ■ X X X ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■ X

hn. 1 ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■

vln. 1 ■ X X ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■

vln. 2 ■ X X X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Bass ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Interv third third third third third third

13 Charris Efthimiou, Strategien orchestraler Gestaltung in Mozarts frühe Sinfonien: Eine Musikanalytische Studie (Saarbrücken: Südwestdeutscher Verlag für Hochschulschriften, 2014).

14 Charris Efthimiou, “Strategien Orchestraler Gestaltung in W. A. Mozart’s frühe Sinfonien,“ in Mozart Jahrbuch 2016, ed. Manfred Hermann Schmidt (Salzburg: Internationale Stiftung Mozarteum, 2016) [to be edited].

35

Bar 29 30 32 35/37 36/38 39 42 43 44/46 43 48 52

ob. 1 ■ ■ X X ■ ■ X

ob. 1 ■ ■ X X ■ ■ X

hn. 1 ■

hn. 2 ■

vln. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■ X ■ ■ ■ X

vln. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ X X ■ ■ ■ X

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■

bass ■ ■ ■ ■

Interv third Third sixth third third third

Bar 59 61 66 69 75 76 78 79 81/83 82/84 85 86 87

ob. 1 ■ X ■ ■ X X X

ob. 1 X ■ ■ X X X

hn. 1 ■ ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■ ■

vln. 1 ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X X ■

vln. 2 ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X X ■

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

bass ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Interv Third third third sixth

After considering the above points, it is apparent that the fi rst part of Symphony no. 44 (ED, 10: Bb8) is very diverse with respect to the instrumentation of the melody line. Although Mysliveček has a limited amount of instruments at his disposal, he tries to get the maximum out of them. There are constellations with diff erent densities and tone-colours, in unison, in thirds and sixths, as well as with the participation of instruments (horns and double basses) which according to the standards of the time, were not respon-sible for playing the melody.15

15 Aringer, Instrumente, 215.

36

Fig. 3: Listing of all melody constellations of the fi rst part of Symphony no. 45 (ED. 10: Eb6) by J. Mysliveček until bar 22

Fig. 3 demonstrates the development of the entire melody line in the fi rst 22 bars of the fi rst part of Symphony no. 45 (ED, 10: Eb6). The instrumentation of the melody line changes during the fi rst movement of this symphony quite often, and due to space limita-tions, I only show the fi rst bar of each diff erent instrumentation. In order to improve the clarity of Fig. 3, a double line is inserted between every instrumentation. The instruments which do not participate in the performance of the melody are not shown. I also note the number of bars of each diff erent constellation. A letter has been inserted above each constellation. The fi rst constellation has the letter A (bold with italics), the second the letter B (again bold with italics), etc. When the constellation E (bar 22: fi rst violins) is repeated, this is noted above the bar with the letter E again (for example in bar 22) but without bold and italics.

37

During the fi rst 22 bars of this movement there are melodies:• In unison (letters H and I), thirds (G), sixths (J), one octave (B and D), tenths (K),

two octaves (A and C)• With one (E), two (H, I, J, K), three (D), four (B and G) and more than fi ve (A and

C) instruments.• With horns (A), lower (violas and double basses) strings (A, B and C) and oboes (A,

C, D and I)• Only with the fi rst violins (E) and with both the fi rst and second violins (H, J, K)

The richness of tone-colours in these fi rst 22 bars is enormous. Up until bar 21, there are actually no tone-colour repetitions. This indicates that J. Mysliveček was in a position to develop and realize mid to long-term tendencies in instrumentation. Such processes are to be found in the fi rst movements of all the sixth symphonies (Nos. 42–47). Symphony no. 45 was chosen here as exemplary.

If one examines Fig. 2 (Symphony no. 44) from an over-arching perspective, it is ap-parent that in this part of Symphony no. 44 (ED, 10: Eb6) there are numerous orchestra-tutti (bars 1, 2, 4, 13, 21, 39, 43, 52, 66, 85, 86 and 87). Fig. 4 attempts to present the orchestra-tutti in tabular form. Each combination is noted with the letter seen in the bottom of the tabular.

Fig. 4: Listing of all orchestra-tutti of the fi rst part of Symphony no. 44 (ED, 10: Eb6) by J. Mysliveček

bar 1 2 4 13 21 39 43 52 66 85 86 87

ob. 1 X X X X X X X X X X X X

ob. 1 X X X X X X X X X X X X

hn. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■

vln. 1 X X X X ■ X X X X X X ■

vln. 2 X X X X ■ X X X X X X ■

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

bass ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

comb. A B B B C B B B A A B D

Although during Symphony no. 44 there is a high degree of tone-colour diff erentiation, J. Mysliveček often repeats the tone-colours of certain orchestra-tutti of the symphony (Fig. 4 combinations A and B). These orchestra-tutti diff er strongly in harmony and motif but not in tone-colours. The transfer of all the tone-colour constellation in tabular form has an abstract character which, at fi rst glance, drives us quickly to such concrete results.

38

All the orchestra-tutti from other symphonies by J. Mysliveček (No. 43: ED, 10: D21 and No. 43: ED, 10: F8) are fi nally presented in the same way as before in order to com-pare them with Symphony no. 44 (Fig. 5).

Fig. 5: Listing of all orchestra-tutti of the fi rst parts of Symphony no. 43: ED, 10: D21 and Symphony no. 43: ED, 10: F8 by J. Mysliveček

Symphony no. 42 Symphony no. 43

Bar 31 66 76 78 86 87 105 118 28 31 43 48 80 95 99

Bar X X X X X X X X X X X ■

ob. 1 X X X X X X X X X X X ■

ob. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

hn. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ X X ■ ■ X ■ ■ X ■

vln. 1 ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ X X ■ ■ X ■ ■ X ■

vln. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

It is apparent that, in terms of the instrumentation of the orchestra-tutti, Symphony no. 42 (fi g. 5) is diametrically diff erent from Symphony no. 44 (Fig. 4). Every orchestra-tutti of Symphony no. 42 has a diff erent tone-colour. Almost the same is true for Symphony no. 43.

Although J. Mysliveček has a limited number of instruments at his disposal, he tries to achieve the maximum out of his possibilities. After an analysis of the tone-colours in the fi rst movements of his Symphonies nos. 42–47, it is apparent that he composes his melodies with diff erent densities and tone-colours, as well as in diff erent intervals. A high degree of tone-colour diff erentiation provides no information on the quality of the composition whatsoever. As mentioned in the introduction, I wish to analyse the diff erences and simi-larities between Symphonies nos. 42–47 and his operas and the works of other composers.

The diff erent strategies which J. Mysliveček uses for the instrumentation of his orches-tra-tutti, makes it essential to not only analyse these symphonies with one other, but also to compare them with opera overtures by the composer and with the works of others in order to have substantiated results.

39

Fig. 6: Opera overture by J. Mysliveček Calliroe (ED. 10: D22), complete tone-colour constellations of the melody line

bar 1 3 9 16 18 20/22 23 25 35 37 40 43 44 45 46

ob. 1 X X ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ X

ob. 1 X X X ■ ■ X

hn. 1 ■ ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■

vln. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X

vln. 2 ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ X

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

bass ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Interv third third third sixth

bar 48 50 51 52 53 54 62

ob. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■

ob. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■

hn. 1

hn. 2

vln. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vln. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vla.

bass

Interv sixth sixth third third third Third

bar 71 73 79 83 84 85 87 98 100 103 106 107 109 112ob. 1 X X ■ ■ ■ X ■

ob. 1 X X ■ ■ ■ X ■

hn. 1 ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■

vln. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X ■

vln. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■

bass ■ ■ ■ ■

Interv third third Third sixth

40

Fig. 2 to 5 describe the tone-colour characteristics of Symphonies nos. 42–47. Fig. 6 to 8 at-tempt to analyse using the same criteria his opera symphonies (1773–1778). In numerous aspects, these six overtures from the 1770s have many similarities with Symphonies nos. 42–47. Fig. 6 lists all instrumentations of the melody line of the opera overture Calliroe (I Nc: 29. 3. 1–3) by J. Mysliveček in tabular form.

Fig. 6 provides the following results: • All instruments participate in the performance of the melody. • During the fi rst movement, the tone-colour of the melody line changes 37 times. 22

of these are diff erent, i.e. 59,4% of them.• There are combinations with only one (6), two (9), three (3), four (8) and with fi ve or

more instruments (11). The overture is very well-balanced with respect to the density of the melody line.

• 14 combinations are in unison, 16 in one and 7 in two octaves. • There are 14 constellations in thirds and sixths (including doubling). 10 of them are

solely in sixths. • The fi rst violins play the melody alone six times, 5 times together with the seconds,

while the seconds never play the melody alone. • The lower strings participate in the performance of the melody nine times, while the

horns participate fi ve times.

If we now compare the opera overture of Calliroe (1778) with the fi rst movement of Symphony no. 44 (1778), it is apparent that there are more diff erences than similarities (with respect to the tone-colour design of the melody line).

• The overture is much longer that the fi rst movement of Symphony no. 44.• At the same time, however, the tone-colour of the melody changes more often in

Symphony no. 44 (44 times in 88 bars) than in Calliroe (37 times in 113 bars). • The tone-colour diff erentiation in Calliroe is much higher than that of Symphony no.

44 (59,4% of all constellations in Calliroe are diff erent while in Symphony no. 44 the number is 25,5%).

• Most of the melodies in Symphony no. 44 are composed for more than two instruments; in Calliroe there is more balance in that respect.

There are also similarities, however, between the two works:• Melodies in unison, in one or two octaves, are more dominant than melodies in thirds,

sixths or tenths. Melodies in thirds and tenths are more often than ones in sixths. • Instruments which were seldom used to perform melodies during the 1750s and 1760s

are used quite often here (horns, violas and double basses)

The comparison of these two works demonstrates that, although they were composed with-in one or two years of one other, they diff er in many respects. It is, therefore, problematic

41

to talk about an instrumentation style of a small time period (in this case the style of symphonic works of the 1770s in Central Europe), as well as about a specifi c instrumen-tation style of a composer. Despite the diff erences between the two works, Fig. 7 and 8 indicate that there are indeed also similarities between the concert symphonies and the opera overtures by J. Mysliveček. In the fi rst 30 to 50 bars of Symphonies nos. 42–47, melodies with various tone-colours are heard. Only after cca the second third of the fi rst movement does one hear tone-colour constellations being repeated. This holds for all six opera overtures as well.

Fig. 7: Listing of all melody constellations of the opera overture Ezio by J. Mysliveček (ED, 10: C8), bars two to six

I present here (Fig. 7) bars two to six of the overture of the opera Ezio (ED, 10: C8) exemplary. Within only six bars one hears melodies with diff erent tone-colours (e.g. only violins: letter B, C, and F, violins with oboes: letter A) and density (two instruments: B, C, F, four instruments: A, fi ve instruments: D, six instruments: E) as we all in unison or two octaves.

Fig. 6 (Ezio) as well as Fig. 3 (Symphony no. 45) describe the distinctive strategy that J. Mysliveček uses in order to organise the entire sound of the symphonic over the long-term. At the beginning we hear many and diff erent constellations. Until the fi rst third of the part, J. Mysliveček avoids tone-colour repetitions. After the second third, however, he turns the entire thing over: older constellations are repeated often and only at the end of the part does he use new ones.

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Fig. 8: Listing of all orchestra-tutti of the opera overtures Calliroe (ED. 10: D22) and L’Olympiade (ED. 10: C12) by J. Mysliveček

Calliroe (1778) Olympiade (1778)

bar 1 3 23 46 71 73 109 1 5 8 9 45 58 73 77 85 104 117

ob. 1 X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

ob. 1 X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

hn. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

hn. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vln. 1 ■ ■ X X ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vln. 2 ■ ■ X X ■ ■ X ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

bass ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Fig. 8 confi rms this argument, which is particularly problematic as one cannot actually speak of a specifi c personal instrumentation style for the design of the melody line in the 1770s. Although during some orchestra-tutti in Symphony no. 44 (Fig. 4) and Symphony no. 42 (Fig. 5) are repeated often, J. Mysliveček avoids tone-colour repetitions in orchestra-tutti of Symphony no. 43 almost entirely. The two diff erent strategies are confi rmed in Fig. 8. Most orchestra-tutti of Olympiade are based on three constellations (bars 1, 8, 104 and 107) while in Calliroe one sees less tone-colour constellations (bar 3 correlates with bar 74 and bar 46 with bar 109) which are repeated.

The method of tabular presentation of tone-colours was used up until now in this paper in order to compare concert symphonies with opera overtures composed by J. Mysliveček. The evaluation of this statistical method has led us to quick and concrete results. There are, however, a number of symphonies which do not emerge from this template. This is the reason why it would be necessary to compare symphonies by J. Mysliveček with symphonies of W. A. Mozart (KV162, KV 199, KV 181, KV 183, KV 201 and KV 202) from the same period (1773–1774) and with the same instrumentation.

W. A. Mozart is one of the most active composers of his time in the area of symphonic works. He composed more than 60 of them and made a substantial contribution to the genre. The vast majority of scholarly music publications on the analysis of Mozart’s sym-phonies are focused on music analysis and analysis of harmony. Aspects of orchestration or detailed instrumentation analysis have rarely been considered.16

16 Except: Ellwood Derr, “Basso Continuo in Mozart’s Piano Concertos: Dimensions of Compositional Completion and Performance Practice,” in Mozart’s Piano Concertos: Text, Context, Interpretation, ed. Neal Zaslaw (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 393–410 and: Cliff Eisen, “The Scoring of the Orchestral Bass Part,” in Mozart’s Salzburg Keyboard Concertos: The Evidence of the Authentic Copies, ed. Neal Zaslaw (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 411–425.

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The defi cits in research of W. A. Mozart’s orchestral dispositions are summarized:

• There is almost no literature on the design of bass and melody lines,17 although the creation of a framework set (that is, the conception of melody and bass lines) in the aetiology of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s compositions is of exceptional importance.

• The same is true for the orchestration of the bass and melody lines. • The instrumentation analyses of Mozart’s symphonies usually consider a small section

of a symphonic part. There is therefore a lack of articles which consider the orchestra-tion strategies of an entire symphony or of an entire symphony part.

The examination of symphonies KV 162, KV 199, KV 181, KV 183, KV 201 and KV 202, with the same analytical methods used in J. Mysliveček’s symphonies, would then be an addition to Mozart research in the area of instrumentation.

Fig. 9: Listing of all melody constellations of bars 1 to 42 of the fi fth part of Symphony KV 199 by W. A. Mozart

17 Except: Neal Zaslaw and John Spitzer, The Birth of the Orchestra (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004) and: Christoph Reuters, “Klangfarbe und Instrumentation: Geschichte-Ursachen-Wirkung,” in Systematische Musikwissenschaft, ed. Jobst P. Fricke (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2002).

44

Fig. 9 indicates that Mozart instruments the fi rst part of his Symphony KV 199 from bar 1 to 42 in a similar manner as J. Mysliveček. In only 42 bars, the instrumentation of the melody line changes 13 times and there is no tone-colour constellation which is repeated. Only after bar 43, like in J. Mysliveček, do we hear repetitions of constellations. In those 42 bars there are melodies in unison (bar 15 and 36), thirds (15, 29 and 42), sixths (8 and 42), in one octave (7, 15, 19, 20, 36), in tenths (42), in two octaves (16 and 40), with one (2), two (7, 15, 19, 20, 36), four (8, 15, 29 and 42), fi ve (4) and more than six instruments (16). Both composers follow the same ideals.

Fig. 10: Listing of all orchestra-tutti of the fi rst parts of the Symphonies KV 199, 62, 201 and 202 by W. A. Mozart

KV 199 KV 162 KV 201 KV 202

bar 16 102 143 18 22 85 89 77 89 181 201 8 28 71 102 120 141 190 204

Ob. 1 X X X ■ X ■ X X ■ ■ ■ X ■ ■ X ■ X

Ob. 2 X X X ■ X ■ X X ■ ■ ■ X ■ ■ X ■ X

Hn. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Hn.2 ■ ■ ■ ■

Vln. 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X

Vln. 2 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ X

Vla. ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Bass ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

The same is true for the instrumentation of orchestra-tutti (Fig. 10). In some symphonies there are no tone-colour repetitions (KV 162 and 201) while in certain others (KV 199 and KV 202), the opposite is true.

Up until this point, six concert symphonies and six opera overtures by J. Mysliveček with six concert symphonies by W. A. Mozart have been analysed and compared. Due to the limited size of this article, it would be possible to compare these 18 works in only exemplary fashion. In order to deduce more concrete results from this statistical method, there would be a need to consider all the above-mentioned aspects of tone-colour analy-sis for all 18 works from an over-arching perspective. Only in this way will it be possible to observe long-term tendencies and templates, which would otherwise remain hidden. Diagr. 1 to 11 aim at recognizing such templates and illustrating them. Every diagram represents one instrumentation aspect:

Diagr. 1: How often the instrumentation of the melody line changes (total number of tone-colour constellations / number of bars)

Diagr. 2: Tone-colour diff erentiation (total number of tone-colour constellations / how many of them are diff erent)

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Diagr. 3: Tone-colour space A (total number of tone-colour constellations / number of melodies in one octave)

Diagr. 4: Tone-colour space B (total number of tone-colour constellations / number of melodies in two octaves)

Diagr. 5: Melodies in thirds and sixths versus melodies in unison and/or in one or two octaves (total number of melodies in thirds and sixths / total number of tone-colour constellations)

Diagr. 6: How often only the fi rst violins perform a melody (total number of melodies only with fi rst violins / total number of tone-colour constellations)

Diagr 7: How often only the violins (fi rst and seconds) perform a melody (total num-ber of melodies only with violins / total number of tone-colour constellations)

Diagr. 8: How often the lower strings participate (total number of melodies with lower strings in them / total number of tone-colour constellations)

Diagr. 9: How often the brass instruments participate (total number of melodies with brass instruments in them / total number of tone-colour constellations)

Diagr. 10: How often the oboes participate (total number of melodies with oboes in them / total number of tone-colour constellations)

Diagr. 11: Density (number of instruments performing a melody and how often)

On the left side of each diagram are the six concert symphonies by J. Mysliveček, in the middle his six opera overtures and on the right the six concert symphonies of W. A. Mozart.

Diagram 1 shows how constant the mean values (frequency of changes in instrumen-tation) remain in J. Mysliveček’s concert symphonies compared to his opera overtures. Although there is no exact date of when Symphonies nos. 42–47 were composed, it can be assumed that J. Mysliveček himself considered these works as one unity. The same can be observed in diagram 2 where we see the tone-colour diff erentiation. Although the opera overtures by J. Mysliveček and the six symphonies by W. A. Mozart do not show such a unity of mean values, the opposite is true for J. Mysliveček’s six concert symphonies. As already mentioned here, a higher mean value in a symphony does not automatically mean that the work is of higher artistic quality compared to the others.

46

Diagram 1

Diagram 2

Diagrams 3 and 4 show that, from a statistical point of view, there are more melodies in two octaves in Mozart’s symphonies and especially in Mysliveček’s opera overtures than in his concert symphonies. The tone-colour space of these orchestral works is wider than the one of Mysliveček’s symphonies. His overtures sound, from an over-arching perspec-tive, more brilliant than his concert symphonies.

47

Diagram 3

Diagram 4

A similarity between almost all 18 symphonic works considered is demonstrated in dia-gram 5. In the vast majority of the symphonies, both composers prefer melodies in unison and in one or two octaves, than melodies in thirds, sixths or tenths. Some of Mozart‘s symphonies are an exception to this rule.

48

Diagram 6

Diagram 7

Over the course of the 1770s, the dominance of the violins in the performance of a melody gradually demises. Diagrams 6 and 7 confi rm this tendency. Almost every symphony of this comparative study has less than 20% of constellations with only the fi rst violins and less than 30% with both fi rst and second violins. There are obviously symphonies by both composers which deviate from this template, but they are the minority.

49

Diagram 8

Diagram 9

In the opera overtures by J. Mysliveček, one hears melodies with horns and low strings. These works have a more brilliant sound than the concert symphonies (Diagr. 3 and 4) and they also include melodies with instruments which are not usually used for the performance of a melody (Diagr. 8 and 9).

50

The tone-colour of the oboes dominates almost every symphony (Diagr. 10), except in some of Mozart‘s symphonies. In many diagrams (Diagr. 5, 7, 8 and 10) there are sympho-nies by Mozart which partly deviate from this template. In many aspects, J. Mysliveček’s symphonies are more homogeneous and similar to each other than the six concert sym-phonies by Mozart.

Diagr. 11 is designed somewhat diff erently than Diagr. 1 to 10. The number of partici-pating instruments is represented by a surface area, each of which has a diff erent colour. There are almost no melodies with three instruments in J. Mysliveček’s works, except in some opera overtures. There is a complete diff erent image in the works by Mozart: his symphonies are characterized by a balance with respect to the tone-colour density of the melody line. In his symphonies one hears melodies with one, two, four or more instru-ments as well as with three.

Diagram 10

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Diagram 11

Diagr. 1 to 11 indicate how problematic it is to try and speak of an instrumentation style. It is quite usual that during an instrumentation class, the students are encouraged to in-strument one piano sonata of W. A. Mozart with “the typical” Mozart instrumentation. Diagr. 1 to 11 reveal, however, that even within a small time window, Mozart instruments his symphonies quite diff erently. J. Mysliveček not only instruments his symphonies in another manner than W. A. Mozart, but actually changes his preferences when composing a concert symphony or an opera overture.

Despite the diff erent instrumentation template the two composers use, there are simi-larities between them in terms of how they design the melody. The melody tone-colours, the tone-colour space and the density all change constantly during a symphonic part. Through diff erent combinations, melodies in diff erent intervals are doubled or played in octaves. All orchestra instruments participate in the performance of melodies and at least on third of each part has no tone-colour repetitions.

These tone-colour characteristics are to be expected in the works of W. A. Mozart. It is surprising, however, that they also exist and in quite a high number in the symphonic works of J. Mysliveček. His symphonic oeuvre has unfortunately received little attention from musicological research and has seldom been used for comparative studies. This paper hopes to partly fi ll this hole.

52

On the Instrumentation of the Melody Line of Joseph Mysliveček’s Symphonies Nos. 42–47

Abstract

The aim of this paper is to look at the design of the melody line in J. Mysliveček’s Symphonies nos. 42–47 (ED. 10: D21, F8, Bb8, Eb6, G10 and C11) from a music-analytical perspective. The following aspects are presented in details: instrumentation of the bass line, octave doublings of the melody line within a movement, as well as the participa-tion of the low strings and the brass section in the performance of the melody. These symphonies will then be compared with opera symphonies from the same period which also have the same instrumentation, in order to fi nd diff erences and similarities between them. Furthermore, J. Mysliveček’s symphonies are compared to symphonies by W. A. Mozart of the same period (1772–1774) with the same instrumentation to determine relationships on the one hand, and to stress special features of the symphonic works of J. Mysliveček on the other hand.

K instrumentaci melodické linie v Symfoniích č. 42–47 Josefa Myslivečka

Abstrakt

Příspěvek se zabývá hudební analýzou melodických linií v Symfoniích č. 42–47 (ED. 10: D21, F8, Bb8, Eb6, G10 and C11) J. Myslivečka. Detailně jsou zkoumány následující aspekty: instrumentace basových linií, oktávová zdvojení melodie v rámci hudební věty, podíl smyčcových a žesťových nástrojů na provedení melodie. Symfonie jsou srovnávány s Myslivečkovou orchestrální operní hudbou ze stejného období, která využívá identickou instrumentaci, stejně tak s podobně instrumentovanými symfoniemi W. A Mozarta z ob-dobí 1772–1774. Cílem komparace je určit společné jmenovatele děl obou tvůrců, dále defi novat specifi cký kompoziční rukopis J. Myslivečka.

Keywords

Instrumentation; J. Mysliveček; W. A. Mozart; symphonies; tone-colour analysis.

Klíčová slova

Instrumentace; J. Mysliveček; W. A. Mozart; symfonie; analýza témbru.

53

Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Defi ning Moments of the Spirit and Soul in Music

Greg Hurworth

Introduction

This article concentrates on a three-chord sequence, which from each of its occurrences and contexts, seems to be imbued with a similar, special meaning. One might even say at the outset, that this ‘meaning’ refers to something spiritual and religio-philosophical; specifi cally, this chord sequence appears to have something to do with the nature of man’s deepest relationship to the earth, the universe and to God. In this article, the author in-tends to discuss the following: the scant times that this chord sequence occurs in music of the past 400 years; the remarkable similarities of use by disparate composers across the centuries, mainly totally unaware of each others’ works, and therefore something spontaneous and extraordinary during those centuries; and fi nally, highlighting the similar meanings of this sequence by comparing the contexts in which it occurs within the music of nine composers, namely: Claudio Monteverdi, Ludwig van Beethoven, Carl Maria von Weber, Anton Bruckner, Gustav Mahler, Richard Strauss, Modest Mussourgski, Piotr I. Tschaikovski, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Ralph Vaughan Williams. In examples from most of these composers, this three-note sequence occurs in only one work, albeit several times in that work; often the work in which it appears is a quintessential representative of that composer. There may well be further occurrences in the music of other compos-ers in European history, but what is off ered here for apparently the fi rst time, is the link between this three-chord sequence and its contextual meaning.

Explaining the 3-chord sequence

The chord progression referred to in this article is related to a specifi c melodic outline; therefore, the fi rst step in this article must be to identify the notes of the associated me-lodic contour. These simple outlines are found as musical example (i).

54

Musical example (i):

Both these melodic outlines exhibit these characteristics: they exist in a Major tonality; they start on two diff erent notes of the Tonic Major scale, namely notes, and more com-monly, note 1. Each then rises by step through three notes.

Each of the three rising melodic notes is harmonised by a chord; the resulting three chord-sequence, which is the essence of this article, consists of a minor, Major, and fi nally Tonic Major chord. Several of the examples examined in this article occur in C major. The resulting chords in sequence for this key are therefore; ‘a minor’; ‘G Major’ and ‘C Major’. Consequently, the numerical representation of the chords is: vi (indicating the minor chord of the sub-mediant, indicated in lower case throughout this article); V (the dominant); and I (the Tonic), both of which are Major chords, and written in upper case. Displayed in 4-part homophonic texture, there are at least three possible versions, each with a bass line that moves in opposite motion to the rising melodic line. The fi rst two examples fi t with the melodies in musical example (ii) while a third possible and less common harmonisation, with the rising melody in the tenor part, is also displayed.

Musical example (ii):

This is not the only way to harmonise this three-note melodic motive. Other harmonisa-tions are to be found within the same works mentioned in this article; but, they can also be found in many works occurring during the Baroque and Classical periods, and are not discussed in this article. Their contextual meanings are diff erent – example 3/2, for example, has three successive Major chords, and often found in music of the 18th and 19th centuries; its context is often associated with so-called ‘hunting calls’ employing natural horns1 or trumpets.

1 Several examples of many from the time period occur in movements one and four of the Jagdsinfonie, the ‘Hunting Symphony’, also called Sinfonia da Caccia in G Major, for 4 hunting horns, strings and gunshots, by Leopold Mozart (1719–1787), precise date of composition unknown.

55

Two common alternatives to harmonising the melodic outline, 1 – 2 – 3, are shown in musical example (iii) as 3/1 and 3/2. The other two harmonisations are also found, but less often.

Musical example (iii):

At this stage, it is important to say that there may well be additional uses of the chord sequence, but in this article, a hypothesis is being presented for others to test, refute or affi rm based on the facts presented here. This article refers only to the harmonisation with the 3-chord sequence outlined in the fi rst two versions in musical example (ii).2

The nine composers in the main canon of European music who use this particular chord sequence can be grouped in various ways, as the discussion below will show. However, here presented in chronological order by composer, are the thirteen examples to be discussed below: (i) 1610: Claudio Monteverdi: opening of ‘Magnifi cat I’, Vespro della Beata Vergine/

Vesperis in Festis Beata Mariae Vergine (The Marian Vespers) (ii) 1809–1811: Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Concerto no. 5, ‘The Emperor’, Op. 73,

movement (ii) (iii) 1820–1821: Carl Maria von Weber: Der Freischütz, Op. 77, Overture (iv) 1874: Modest Mussourgski: ‘The Great Gate of Kiev’, from Pictures at an Exhibition (v) 1882: Piotr I. Tschaikovski: The Year 1812, Festival Overture, Op. 49 (vi) 1881–1883, rev. 1885: Anton Bruckner: Symphony no. 7, movement (ii) (vii) 1888: Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov: Russian Easter Festival Overture, Op. 36 (viii) 1892: Gustav Mahler: ‘Urlicht’, from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, and Symphony no.

2, movement (iv) (ix) 1896: Richard Strauss: Also Sprach Zarathustra, ‘Sunrise’, Introduction (x) 1910: Ralph Vaughan Williams: Symphony no. 1, ‘Sea Symphony’, movement (iv) (xi) 1909–1910: Richard Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier, Op. 59, at various times within the

opera; and again in 1944, when a Suite taken from the Opera, was arranged for the concert hall.

(xii) 20. 9. 1948: Richard Strauss: ‘September’, song no 2 from Four Last Songs (xiii) 6. 5. 1948: Richard Strauss: ‘Im Abendrot’, song no 4 from Four Last Songs

2 In a couple of instances, discussed below, the third chord of the sequence does not function as the Tonic – but serves as another function within the key, and notably, chord IV. See discussion below.

56

Various points can be deduced from this chronological list. Firstly, the most iconic and well-known example of this three-chord sequence, is undoubtedly the cadence at the end of the ‘Introduction’, a musical depiction of a Sunrise, which begins the ‘philosophical’ tone poem, Also Sprach Zarathustra by Richard Strauss (1864–1949). The celebrity of this example is in no small part due to its use during the opening credits of the fi lm, 2001: A Space Odyssey.3

However, it also needs to be noted that Strauss used this sequence in works that span most of his creative life. His next most notable use of these three chords is in his most renowned opera, Der Rosenkavalier, which premiered in 1911. Notes fi ve, six and seven of the opening tune of the whole work, are those three melodic notes of tonic, supertonic, and mediant, or 1, 2, 3 of the tonic, in this case, E major. He then harmonises them with the three-chord sequence under scrutiny here. In addition to the opening moments of the opera, the chord sequence reappears in the fi nal waltz of Act II. The fi nal cadence closing the orchestral Suite of music extracted from the Opera4 forcibly reiterates the three-chord sequence. On this occasion, as in Also Sprach Zarathustra, the cadence occurs in C Major, making a striking musical parallel or self-quotation, between that tone poem and the opera.

The fi nal examples of a life-long use of this three-chord sequence occur in the Four Last Songs of Strauss, completed during 1948. Both Songs 2 and 4, use the sequence twice. Its use in Song 4 is in ‘E fl at Major’ – which alone aligns it with other examples of this sequence, which also occur in the same key. In Song 4, its use occurs fi ve bars from the end of the song, thus forming the fi nal cadence. While this Song was not the last music that Strauss wrote, it has been performed as the fourth of these 4 last songs since 1950, when the songs were fi rst published in that order by Ernst Roth. The fi nal three chord cadence, vi, V, I, in ‘E fl at Major’, comes after the fi nal words of the song – ist dies … etwa … der Tod?, meaning ‘Is this … perhaps … death?’ Therefore, this appears to be a fi tting fi nal use of this cadence spread across more than 50 years of compositions by Strauss.

A second point is that, from this list of thirteen works, it can be seen that there are three works, composed between 1874 and 1888, a mere 14 years, in Russia by three friends. The point from all of this is that all the occurrences of this chord progression occur in works that quote or closely imitate Russian Orthodox Chants. It appears that the harmonisation of Orthodox chants lends itself to the use of these three chords in

3 2001 is an iconic fi lm by Stanley Cubrick, which appeared in cinemas across the world in 1968 with great popularity.

4 This orchestral Suite appears to have had the sanction of Strauss, when it was fi rst published in 1945, but it was not made by him. The arranger of this orchestral suite appears to be Artur Rodz-inski (1892–1958), who conducted its New York premiere in 1944. We therefore do not know if it was Strauss who ended the Suite in C Major with that cadence, or it was Rodzinski’s stroke of brilliance to end it that way. The fi nal cadence of the Suite sounds remarkably like its twin in Also Sprach Zarathustra. In this way, the two works appear to come from the same source and unite the works spread across the years, 1895 to the opera’s premiere in 1911, to the appearance of the Suite in 1944 as well as fi nally with Song no. 4 of the Four Last Songs.

57

succession. This regularisation of these chants, and the establishment of Choirs in Russian churches, appears to be an innovation dating from the 18th century.5 Rimsky-Korsakov is the link between these composers – indeed, his Russian Easter Overture is dedicated to the memory of his friend, Mussourgski, and he also made the performing edition of the latter’s Pictures at an Exhibition, the fi nal movement of which is under discussion below.

Finally, there appears to be no use of this particular 3-chord progression between Monteverdi and Beethoven, covering a period of around 200 years; on the face of it, this is quite remarkable indeed. Of course, this time frame includes a considerably vast body of music, amounting to all the works of the later Baroque, Roccoco and Classical periods, including those of J. S. Bach, Bach’s sons, Mozart and Haydn, and on into the early 19th century. As mentioned earlier, the use of the ‘hunting call’, as outlined by example 3/2, in musical example (iii) above, is an alternative harmonisation of the three-note melody as mentioned earlier in footnote 1.

In addition to this discussion, it is important to relate the following: the apparent dearth of use of this chord progression during the 17th and 18th centuries can perhaps be explained by this observation. During this time period, use is made of the retrograde version of this three-chord sequence, occurring in reverse order as: Major chord, Major chord, minor chord. (As the music in which it occurs usually uses a 4/4 time signature, there needs to be another minor, or Major chord to complete the bar). This reverse-order version of the three-chord sequence was exceedingly common, and often employed as a recurring pattern (ostinato).

This version occurs at the beginning of a piece and heard as – Tonic [I], Dominant [V], Sub-Mediant [vi]; as an ostinato pattern, it appears to date from the late 17th century. It is easily recognizable in musical example (iv) as the opening and basis of Canon (and Gigue) in D, although how and when it came into existence is still unknown.6

5 The author has no intention in this article to deal with the history of Russian Church Music. For the purposes of the hypothesis of this article, it is necessary to highlight the fact that the three-chord progression here, was most probably established in Russian church music in the 18th century, during which signifi cant reforms of church music took place; the infl uence and use of Western Renaissance and Baroque polyphony and harmony, established elsewhere in Europe, notably 16th century Italy, certainly appear to have infl uenced and led these 18th century musical reforms in Russia.

6 One idea is that the piece was possibly written for the wedding in 1694 of Johann Christoph Bach (1671–1721), a brother of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750). It has certainly been popular at European weddings since a modern performance by the Jean-Francoise Paillard Chamber Orchestra was released in 1968 on disc. Furthermore, this recording shot to popularity for its use as background music in the Academy award-winning Robert Redford fi lm, Ordinary People, which appeared in 1980 and thus sealing its prominence in recent popular culture.

58

Musical example (iv):

In this Canon by Pachelbel, the retrograde version is used as an ostinato pattern, heard fi rst of all on a single bass or basso continuo instruments, which present the bass part. This pattern became well established, and continues to the present day, by its use in the opening bars of many songs; such songs are from diff ering styles of Western Popular Music. In fact, it is used as part of a 4-chord progression where the 4th chord is the Sub-dominant or sometimes mediant chord. Since it is heard at the beginning of a phrase, it is in opposition to the three-chord progression, which is associated mainly with a cadence, at an end of a phrase, section or piece and only sometimes with the opening of a phrase.

Notable modern examples of this ostinato pattern from the past fi ve decades include such popular songs and their singers as: Let it Be (1970, The Beatles); Country Roads (1971, John Denver); No Woman, No Cry (1976, Bob Marley); Take on Me (1985, A Ha); With or Without You (1987, U2); Can You Feel the Love Tonight? (1993, Elton John); You Were Amazing (2001, Alex Lloyd); You’re Beautiful (2003, James Blunt); Poker Face (2008, Lady Gaga). This albeit short list of hit songs by some of the most celebrated popular music performers, seems to indicate the following: there appears to be something fun-damentally satisfying in the use of these four chords in succession that suits the context and their reception by an audience. This list of performers, the constancy of the use of this 4-chord progression, plus the range of styles and the time frame it covers, all suggest something signifi cant and humanly-satisfying to the listener. Its very familiarity apparently speaks fundamentally to the hearts and souls of so many.7

7 This phenomenon was brought to the attention of the musical world by the Australian comedy Rock Band, Axis of Awesome, who performed a fi ve-minute series of openings to 37 songs using this pattern, during the 2009 Melbourne Comedy Festival. The list presented here is taken from their routine, and examples often use the four chords as an ostinato, in 4/4 time signature, no diff erent at all from the Pachelbel ‘original’ from over 300 years ago. The surprising use of the sequence is in the Australian folk song, Waltzing Matilda. This folk tune and accompanying harmony dates back to at least the 1890s, and was based on a previous folk tune of nearly 100 years earlier. The use and meaning of the deeply felt, humanly-satisfying instinct provided by this harmonic chord sequence, whose use also spans centuries, is a possible subject for further investigation. The point here is that it is not associated with religio-philosophical content, but more with the idea of story-telling, and love between a man and woman.

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Contexts and Meanings in the use of the chord sequence

Here follow some brief notes on the use of the three chords as they appear in the musical context of the nine composers. It is the musical characteristics of these contexts that help defi ne their contextual meaning.

Richard Strauss

It seems best to begin with the Strauss examples. The reason is that his defi nitive use of this sequence occurs on more than one occasion and in two distinct ways. These two ways are: (i) as fi nal cadential material; and (ii) as help with modulating between phrases. Time to look at each individually:

(i) fi nal cadential material

The outstanding example is undoubtedly during the opening bars of his orchestral tone-poem Also Sprach Zarathustra; the three chords form a cadence and bring to a close the opening music depicting a sunrise. The music builds from almost inaudible rumblings through to this full orchestral three-chord cadence, including organ at full volume, per-formed almost overpoweringly loudly.8

Perhaps the most signifi cant of the musical facts is that the three chords are performed rather slowly and very distinctly. This lack of speed to their unraveling draws attention to each of the chords, their individual characteristics, as well as their progressive accumu-lative meaning across the short, yet pronounced sequence. The melodic outline consists of the sub-mediant [note 6], leading note [7], and tonic [8/1] in C Major, which provide the eff ect of striving upwards towards a satisfying feeling of completion. The music shakes and moves the spirit within us by this three-chord sequence, as Strauss (and the words of Nietzsche) intended us to be.

The other example by Strauss, in 1948, which is some 53 years later than the Zarathustra one, occurs right at the end of the compositional career of Strauss; it is found in Song 4, ‘Im Abendrot’, (At Night-fall) of Four Last Songs. The major diff erence between the two examples is that the cadence in this Song is heard softly, and mainly uses stringed accompaniment. The major similarity between the two examples is that the pulse moves very slowly indeed (sehr langsam), as detailed in the score. Again, each chord is highlighted separately in this way, and great symbolic meaning for all three chords in sequence is therefore evident. Once more, the spirit of the listener is engaged – this fi nal cadence of the song follows the words by Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788–1857):

8 In fact, it is so well-known that there is no real need to show it as an example, here – in addition, it has already been seen earlier in outline in musical example (ii) above.

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Ist dies etwa der Tod?9 In these fi nal moments of the song, the three chords are played, very softly, slowly and by the strings. They therefore sound eerily similar to the opening of the Mahler song, discussed below.

The three-chord sequence therefore forms a neatness of conception by being used in the early, a middle work (Der Rosenkavalier), and this fi nal work as a song by Strauss; a further very neat symmetry is formed by examining the example from Zarathustra and the last Song from 1948: the fi rst concerns a sunrise, and the last has a text which refers to sunset, both great examples displayed philosophically of a life journey from beginning to end.

(ii) modulation

The second way in which Strauss uses this chord progression is as part of a modulation rather than at a cadence. He provides three examples of this in his Four Last Songs – two in Song number 2, ‘September’, and one in the song, ‘Im Abendrot’.

The use of harmony for this modulation is direct and simple. It involves the tonic of a minor key, being treated simultaneously as the sub-mediant of a new Major key. All three examples therefore use the sequence, vi moving to V or V7, to I, or a modulation from a minor key to a Major one, at the distance of a minor 3rd.

The fi rst of the two examples is the song, ‘September’, shows that the point of arrival after a cadence is into the tonic key of ‘e fl at minor’ (musical example (v)). This tonic chord is then treated as the sub-mediant of a new key, in this case, G fl at Major, and the modulation is aff ected by a perfect cadence in that new key. Melodically, the outline is by step – ‘g fl at’, ‘a fl at’ and ‘b fl at’.

Musical example (v): two examples in ‘September’

The speed is quite slow, and the second chord is a dominant 7th rather than the basic dominant triad; but the chord progression is not aff ected. (Besides, the 7th adds a richness to that second chord). In this part of the song, the modulation comes between verses

9 To cement this feeling of fi nality of life here on earth, Strauss further quotes from his early tone poem of sixty years earlier, Tod und Verklaerung, Op. 24, dating from 1888–1889.

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one and two of the original text by Hermann Hesse (1877–1962). Verse 1 ends with the words in English translation: ‘[…] Summer shivers in the chill of its dying domain […]’. The text therefore gives the feeling of something fading away in order to make way for something new. Verse two opens with the words: ‘[…] Yet summer smiles, enraptured […]’ Summer is the connection between the two verses of text; but, the states of summer expressed are quite diff erent, and Strauss needs to indicate this musically in some way. The way in which he does this is to use a modulation to lift us from one level of meaning and feeling to another, related one.

The second example, as shown in musical example (v), and in the same song, is a me-lodically ornamented modulation from ‘c sharp minor’ to ‘E major’. The chord of ‘c sharp minor’ is the tonic, but then actually becomes the new sub-mediant in the key of ‘E Major’.

The third example of using the three chords as a modulation occurs in song 4, ‘Im Abendrot’. As in the other song, Strauss uses the tonic, in this case the chord of ‘a fl at minor’, to be the sub-mediant of the new key, ‘C fl at Major’, thus procuring the modulation from minor to Major. This is shown in the following musical example, (vii).

Musical example (vii): ‘Im Abendrot’

Claudio Monteverdi

The apparent fi rst use in Western musical history of this three-chord sequence, occurs at the beginning of the ‘Magnifi cat’, also known as the Canticle of Mary, in Monteverdi’s work of 1610, Vespers for the Blessed Virgin.

We hear the step-wise melodic movement as monody fi rst of all; then follows the harmonised three-chord sequence three times. All this forms the opening seven bars of the ‘Magnifi cat’, as seen in musical example (viii).

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Musical example (viii):

As can be observed, the three statements of the harmonised melody overlap with each other; instead of resolving to the tonic each time, Monteverdi keeps the momentum going by overlapping the third chord with the sub-mediant instead. It is the last of the statements that fi nally resolves onto the tonic, ‘F Major’ chord. In this example, the melody, which these three chords support, consists of notes 1, 2, 3 of the tonic scale (indicated over the opening notes in the example).10

Signifi cantly, the pace of the notes is slow; we can clearly hear each of the chords in a stark, hymn-like way, highlighting their individual (tonal) qualities separately and in sequence (harmonically). The text employs only one word – magnifi cat, heard four times, with increasing intensity of texture and resultant rise of dynamic level. This increase in volume is formed by a crescendo of sorts, as more and more sounds are added into the texture. It is the context of this word, magnifi cat, which links the chords with their contex-tual meaning; this word is the prelude to the text of the whole of Mary’s Canticle, which comes from the Gospel according to St Luke, chapter 1, verse 46 onwards. The text of the fi rst line is: Magnifi cat anima mea Dominum, et exsultavit spiritus meus in Deo salvatore meo – ‘My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour’.11

Straightaway, we can see that Monteverdi has identifi ed the three-chord sequence with the words of the text which go on to indicate the ‘soul’ and ‘spirit’ of the Virgin Mary, who is saying/singing these words. Not only is Monteverdi’s opening an absorbing piece of musical drama, but he is initiating all of Mary’s words with music of a three-chord sequence, which appear to be laden with spiritual meanings. In fact, the three hearings of the three chords in sequence can be easily identifi ed as the link between God the Father, God the Holy Spirit who is the Lord, the giver of life, who announces the conception of third part of the Trinity, God’s Son, Jesus. In other words, they can be seen to form a sym-bolic example of the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) as sung by Mary (represented initially by the opening three notes sung by the women of the chorus, unaccompanied).

10 In recordings by John Eliot Gardiner, he chooses to use a performing edition with the ‘higher’ pitch set at a 4th higher – in this case, ‘B fl at Major’ for the Magnifi cat.

11 This English text was translated for use in the Book of Common Prayer, 1549, and revised in 1552/1604 and 1662. The Latin is commonly used in the Catholic Church, and was translated from the original Greek in the Middle Ages.

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Monteverdi hints at the same chord sequence in the 1st and 2nd Ritornelli sections of the Ave Maris Stella, the preceding movement 12, of the complete Vespers. The words of the verses of this hymn refer to ‘Nurturing Mother of God, Star of the Sea, Hail […] from the mouth of Gabriel, establish peace with us […]’ The words of this hymn addressed to Mary, Mother of God, form a great introduction to the Magnifi cat, the very words of Mary, which immediately follows. The three-chord sequence thus forms something of a link between the musical setting of the text, Ave Maris Stella, and that of the Magnifi cat; this further underlines the religious nature of the three-chord sequence in this work.

Ludwig van Beethoven

Beethoven uses the three-chord progression in a prominently stirring context. This is part of the slow, middle movement of his Piano Concerto, no. 5, ‘The Emperor’. This movement is one of Beethoven’s highly spiritual Adagio movements, on a par with similar profoundly felt adagios, to be heard in his Sonatas, particularly for Piano, as well as his Symphonies (especially numbers 3, 7 and 9).

In fact, Beethoven uses the progression as part of a three-part sequence, punctuated by two silences, as seen in musical example (ix). The silences are part of the drama; but, at the same time, they allow each of the three statements to stand out clearly, as the pulse moves meditatively slowly (adagio, un poco messo).

Musical example (ix):

The musical characteristics of this use are as follows: the melody uses consecutive notes in ascending order, as in all the other examples, and is punctuated by a crotchet rest. This rest elongates the third of the three chords, as its sound lingers on in the brain. Each of the three statements is in B Major, but it is only the middle one of the three that uses the three-chord sequence, vi, V, I, and which begins with a minor chord moving through two Major chords. However, it is this middle one of the three statements, which really attracts our attention; melodically, the notes are sub-mediant, leading note, and tonic, comprising in this case, notes ‘g sharp’, ‘a sharp’ and ‘b’ in the key of B Major. Throughout this example, performed by stringed instruments, not only is the music ascending, but it increases in volume as the melody rises.

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Carl Maria von Weber

This example by Weber (1786–1826) comes from the Overture to Der Freischütz, Op 77, dating from 1820–1821 and so was written around 10 years later than the Beethoven ex-ample. It is entirely possible therefore that Weber had heard and even played or conducted the Beethoven example in concert. Weber was often critical of Beethoven, however, and the relationship of the examples from the two composers, might just be put down to being the use of a common ‘harmonic currency’ in European music at the beginning of the 19th century. That being said, it might not be so ‘common’ as an initial reaction might suggest; it is seemingly not used by other contemporary composers of Weber (or Beethoven), such as Schubert, Rossini or Berlioz etc.

That this Opera should become prominent in infl uencing composers of the next gene-rations, including Richard Wagner (1813–1883), is signifi cant. It is a fact that the opera’s story line, along with its music, brings together so much of the emerging national iden-tity of Germany (Deutscheit emergiernd), that makes it important as an example for this article. German identity is shown here through the language and stories being collected in German-speaking areas (including those by the Brothers Grimm, and Brentano); this particular story includes mentions of things close to the German spirit, such as holy men, aspects of the supernatural, the spirit of man, and it is overladen with symbolic spiritual meanings, important for bringing together aspects of Germanic history and culture. All this is moving towards the forthcoming unifi cation of these German-speaking peoples and culture into the single country of Germany (1871).

In the Overture, we hear the three-chord sequence on two diff erent occasions (and musical example (x) shows the fi rst) – this begins in the tonic key of ‘c minor’. (The second hearing is virtually an identical copy in the recapitulation section, but this time in the key of ‘f minor’).

Musical example (x):

Just as in the Beethoven, we hear the sequence of three chords, three consecutive times. In the Beethoven, however, each time was separated by a crotchet rest; with Weber, the last of the three chords is doubled in length (to be a minim), which gives the same feeling of coming to a pause before the next hearing, as had similarly occurred in the Beethoven.

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The Weber examples can be seen to fi nish in the keys in which they started, ‘c minor’ and ‘f minor’ respectively, in the same way as within the Beethoven example of ‘B Major’.

There are two signifi cant diff erences from the example by Beethoven. The fi rst is that Weber’s use is all in the minor mode, while Beethoven’s is in the Major. In addition, the pulse moves quite quickly, and the orchestra is full, and playing ff . A diff erence from the other examples is that Weber begins on ‘e fl at’, the mediant in ‘c minor’, and ends on the mediant note, ‘g’ in the new key of ‘E fl at Major’. Diff erent from the Beethoven is that it is the fi rst and third hearings of the three-note sequence, which fi t the example under scrutiny in this article. As with the later Strauss examples, the three chords initiate a brief modulation, on this occasion, to the relative Major. The middle hearing is heard in ‘g mi-nor’ (and ‘c minor’ in the recapitulation). In other words, Weber has started and fi nished in the minor key, and the middle hearing is in the Major; Beethoven employs B Major for all three hearings. Both Beethoven and Weber use this three-chord sequence in highly, dramatic ways, which appear to be full of spiritual meanings as shown by their contexts.

Anton Bruckner

Beethoven’s music was certainly among those that infl uenced the character and mean-ings found in Bruckner’s symphonies. It is not surprising to fi nd that Bruckner’s use of the three-chord sequence is confi ned to a slow movement of a symphony, number 7. The melody comprising tonic, supertonic, and mediant, is heard three times in the long, slow movement. Importantly, each of the three uses employs a diff erent harmonisation (as shown in musical example (iii) above). The version that best fi ts this article is heard fi rst, and occurs right at the beginning of the movement, beginning bars four and fi ve of the third phrase; it is shown in musical example (xi). Of note here is that this fi rst chord is actually the tonic, ‘c sharp minor’, which is then treated as a new sub-mediant in the key of ‘E Major’. This therefore fi ts with the modulatory examples by Strauss, as shown above.

Musical example (xi):

The performance indication is immer fort, (remaining strongly played) beginning mf with a crescendo through the three slow-moving chords, which are played by strings only, using a standard four-part harmony. The second hearing at Figure G + bars 4 and 5, has the same stringed version, but with a sextuplet violin 1 embellishment, as shown in musical

66

example (xiii); the fi rst and last notes of each of these violin embellishments of each crotchet is formed of the melody, shown by an asterisk over the initial note of the six.

Musical example (xiii):

Bruckner’s second harmonisation of the ascending three-note melody is to be found at rehearsal fi gure D, but now in G Major. (This is a harmonisation as in musical example (iii), 3rd version, [3/3] above). And the third harmonisation is a ‘classical’, 18th century ‘horn-call’, heard twice at fi gures M in ‘E fl at Major’ and V in ‘B Major’ respectively. The ‘E fl at’ version is displayed in musical example (xiv) and the ‘B Major’ version in example (xv).

Musical example (xiv):

The second of the two ‘horn call’ examples is remarkably similar to the embellished hearing of the main melody from Mussourgski’s ‘Great Gate of Kiev’, which also has rushing scalic semiquaver passages descending by step. Figure V is shown in musical example (xv).12

12 These latter, ‘horn call’ examples are also heard in other Bruckner works; for example, in movements (i) and (iv) of Symphony no. 4, in which there are brass chorale-like moments within the Develop-ment sections of these movements. The pace of the chords in the movements of Symphony no. 4,

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Musical example (xv):

The Russians

During the 19th century, Russian composers wrote increasingly nationalistic music, which led to a notable and distinct Russian identity through music. Part of this musical identity was the increasing use of chants from the ever-present and powerful Russian Orthodox Church. Such chants used ancient modes, and were collected together and harmonised during the 18th century to standardise musical practice within Orthodox services across the vast country that Russia was becoming.

Modest Mussourgski (1839–1881) appears to be the fi rst of the three Russian com-posers to include hints of orthodox chanting, with a quasi-quotation from church music; for the context of this article, they occur in his ‘Great Gate of Kiev’, as part of Pictures at an Exhibition (1874). The complete performing edition of this work for piano was later prepared for publication by Mussourgski’s friend, Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844–1908); the latter then also wrote various works containing quotations from chants, including The Russian Easter Festival Overture, Op. (1888), mentioned below.

Virtually at the same time, Tschaikovksi’s Ouverture Solenelle: 1812, Op 49 (1882), opens and closes with the use of one Orthodox chant, as discussed here.

Modest Mussourgski

‘The Great Gate of Kiev’ has one main theme, in long held, slow moving notes, which begins with melodic notes tonic, super-tonic and mediant, and which fi ts the profi le of the three-chord sequence in this article; the entire melody, majestically performed ff , also rather sounds like an Orthodox chant. (Its harmonisation corresponds to 3/1 from musi-cal example (iii) above; it begins with a fi rst inversion tonic chord).

is also slow and completely majestic, and fi ts very much with the same spiritual-like quality of the examples from Symphony no. 7 given here.

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However, Mussourgski also uses diff erent harmonisations in the six times we hear that main tune.13 It is in the two quieter, contrasting interludes between the main melody where he uses an adapted harmonised Orthodox chant; it is an altered version of a chant used at baptisms. The fi rst time we hear this harmonised chant, it is used in ‘a fl at minor’ as part of a modulation to ‘C fl at Major’ (bb. 30 to 34) as shown in musical example (xvi) below; it is remarkably the same as the modulatory example by Strauss, in musical example (vii) above.

Musical example (xvi):

The second time of hearing the whole chant, it is repeated, again senza espressione, begin-ning in ‘e fl at minor’, moving to ‘G fl at Major’ (bb. 64–68). Melodically, the notes heard on both occasions are the contiguous sub-dominant, dominant, and sub-mediant of the tonic of ‘C fl at Major’.

This highlights the unusual use of the three-chord progression by being within a phra-se, and not at the beginning of one or at a cadence point, as in the other examples. It moves slowly, and appears to be like a chant as part of a religious service, or a procession of chanting monks, heard at a distance; they form a stark contrast to the loud, celebratory description of the Great Gate, which might probably be a symbol for a some sort of State or City ceremonial occasion. In eff ect, this can be considered as a contrast of the secular on the one hand and the religious on the other.

However, it is the lead into the fi nal hearing of the main theme, just 14 bars from the end of the piece, which merits our attention. Musical example (xvii) shows how it looks, where the bar marked ‘Grave’ is actually the fi rst chord of the main melody and heralds its fi nal performance. It is preceded by a cadence, comprising chords vi, V [and so to chord I] in E fl at Major:

13 Strangely enough, there is a similarity between one of the variant hearings of the main tune, and the music at rehearsal fi gure V in the Bruckner example. While the melody moves up slowly through the three contiguous notes, both composers use a descending scalic fi gure in fast moving semiqua-vers. However, the harmonisation of the main tune at this point in both examples, uses a diff erent harmonisation from the three-chord sequence discussed in this article.

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Musical example (xvii):

Of note, this music consists of very slow moving chords, here shown in the original piano version, with the composer’s markings of rallentando, crescendo and sempre maestoso, ff , grave, and sempre allargando. In short, this means a slowing down of pace, with very loud sounds increasing in volume, played very slowly and broadly, while becoming increasingly slower. Such music can’t help but stir the soul of the listener.

Piotr I. Tschaikovski

Like the opening of Also Sprach Zarathustra, the 1812 Overture, as it is popularly called, is also one of the most well-liked pieces in the orchestral repertoire. Tschaikovski (1841–1893), begins his overture with a harmonised statement of the Orthodox hymn, ‘O Lord, Save Thy People’,14 a Tropanion of the Holy Cross. Its Orthodox use is to ask God’s help, and in this case, His help to win the Battle for Moscow against the invading French. The whole piece begins with the now-familiar melodic outline of the tonic, supertonic, and mediant notes.

The composer sets the Overture in ‘E fl at Major’. It is the third phrase of the whole piece, which uses the three-chords in bars 8-9; these are repeated almost immediately with a diff erent orchestration, at bars 16 and 17. The whole chant is performed again at the end, largo, with crotchet = 60, by full orchestra plus optional brass band, ff f. This fuller version is also part of musical example (xv).

On the fi nal hearing at the end of the work, each phrase of the chant is punctuated by a pause, fi lled in with semi-quaver passages from the strings over tolling bells, representing the joy and happiness expressed by Moscow’s population. We therefore hear the three-chord sequence extremely loudly, slowly and each chord very exposed; all this represents a highly spiritual, religious context of thanking and praising God for His help.

14 Spasi, Gospodi, lyudi Tvoya in Russian.

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Musical example (xv):

What is interesting to note is that Tschaikovski has actually changed what appears to be the ‘original’ harmony of this chant; the original from the 18th century can be heard in two performances in recordings by the Stavyanka Male Chorus, and the St Daniel’s Monastery Choir, conducted by Georgy Safonov and is seen in musical example (xvi); the harmonisation corresponds to that shown above in musical example (iii), version 2.

Musical example (xvi):

The question to ask is why did Tschaikovski change the harmony. Apart from any obvious reason, such as Tschaikovski using the tune with its harmony from memory, rather than checking it from the written original, it is perhaps for this reason: maybe the harmony he chose suited the situation better that the music is representing – that is, a prayerful and urgent petition to God, to save His people (the Muscovites) from attack, best represented by the three-chord sequence of this article.

Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov

In The Russian Easter Festival Overture, Rimsky-Korsakov uses three Orthodox chants: (i) Let God Arise; (ii) An Angel Wailed; and (iii) Christ has Risen! The fi rst two chants form the body of the Overture, during which they undergo variations, scarcely heard twice in the same format.

The third chant, Christ has Risen, is only used once and that is in the Coda of the whole work, thus forming its mighty climax. It is preformed by the brass instruments, ff ,

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and slowly. According to Rimsky-Korsakov’s explanation, it represents everyone in the Resurrection service of Easter Day praising God, with a great, resounding Alleluia.The work opens with a monadic version of ‘Let God Arise!’, and then immediately in a sparse harmonic version, as in musical example (xvii).

Musical example (xvii):

The melody contains the three contiguous notes, and the composer uses it as a brief modu-lation from ‘d’ minor to F Major. The chords are not completed in three-part harmony, but with the bass part, they hint at the three-chord sequence, as can be clearly seen in the musical example, and identifi ed due to its very sparseness. It is signifi cant to note that the three-chord sequence occurs after a brief moment of silence, and at the beginning of a phrase. It therefore clearly stands out in a highly religious context.

The second chant, An Angel Wailed, heard as the traditional second subject of the overture, also undergoes variation treatment. Musical example (xviii) shows again that Rimsky-Korsakov uses a sparse texture, whose bass line provides the outline of the three chords. The striking feature is that he immediately uses the same chords in reverse, which has already been noted as the popular version of these three chords, as in the Pachelbel version, musical example (iv) above.

Musical example (xviii):

It is heard in both fast and slow versions as means of varying its use, and the latter is notably heard as a trombone solo, like a monk chanting, on several occasions. The second of these occasions, each phrase of the chant is separated by the full orchestra playing homophonic material in complete musical opposition to the chant. The whole work fi nishes with this particular chant.

Chant three, which occurs just the once, is heard in slow moving brass, ff , against the whole orchestra, including bells, at fi gure Y of the musical score. The words of the

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original chant are from the Easter Day service – Christ has Risen [or is Risen], Alleluia. Melodically it climbs upwards by step through nearly an octave, echoing the actual idea of Christ rising up. (This melodic statement is similar to the Beethoven and Weber examp-les, which similarly ascend by step through seven contiguous pitches). The three-chord sequence opens the hearing of the chant to ‘F Major’, as shown in musical example (xix), and then again later in the phrase in ‘C Major’:

Musical example (xix):

Harmonically, it appears that the chant begins in ‘d minor’; however, it immediately moves to ‘F major’ three bars after fi gure Y. Then, in bars 5, 6 and 7, it moves fi nally to ‘C Major’, and thus becomes a further example of a ‘C Major’ version of the sequence, as heard in two of the Strauss examples above, for example. The shape of the melody moves by step across the seven bars. This Beethoven and Weber examples similarly move up by step in their melodic outlines.

Gustav Mahler

Mahler uses the three-chord sequence on one emotionally highly-charged occasion. The sequence actually forms the fi rst two bars of his song, Urlicht, originally dating from 1892, and the only one that is a statement in its own right, without a modulation into or out of the sequence. He was soon to use the entire song again in 1895 as the fourth movement of fi ve in his Symphony no.2, ‘The Resurrection’. The song is published in various keys, including ‘E fl at Major’ as shown in musical example (xx) below. In the Symphony, it is in the warmly rich key of ‘D fl at Major’, accompanied by strings, very softly, in standard four-part harmony.

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Musical example (xx):

Melodically, it is the fi rst three notes, tonic, supertonic, and mediant, employed by Mahler. The text comprises the four syllables of the words: O Roschen rot! In English, this trans-lates as ‘O, Little Red Rose’ and it continues with a brief story of a soul’s life-long journey towards the afterlife. The text was often used as a prayer or possibly set as a hymn, at a funeral. For this article the important point is that Roschen rot refers symbolically to both Jesus and the Virgin Mary.15 The composer’s instructions are: ppp, sehr feierlich, aber schlicht – ‘sparse, and with ceremony’.

There are several overlaps with other examples above – slow moving, ceremonially played, and used in a religious context, and the wider context of the Resurrection story (strongly linking it spiritually with the version by Rimsky-Korsakov).

There is a notable similarity between the Mahler example, and the cadence of the last song of the four, by Richard Strauss, discussed above. The main diff erence is that in the Mahler song, the three chords are the very opening musical statement, and then come to a lengthy full stop, followed by a brief silence; with Strauss, they form the fi nal cadence and almost the fi nal cadence to his musical life, musically dying away to nothing at the end of the song. For this author, the eff ect in both the Mahler and Strauss songs, is indescribably beautiful, uplifting spiritually, and the context of both pieces take us to a place beyond life itself.

Ralph Vaughan Williams

The premiere of the Symphony no. 1, ‘The Sea Symphony’, by Vaughan Williams (1872–1958), occurred in 1910. It is a completely choral symphony, with each of the four movements using poetry from Leaves of Grass by the American poet, Walt Whitman

15 This symbolism is written about elsewhere, including: Greg Hurworth, ‘Bernstein on Mahler: The Little Drummer Boy (1985),’ in After Mahler’s Death, eds. G. Gruber, M. Solvik, and J. Vičar (Olo-mouc: Palacký University, 2013), 102.

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(1819–1892). The texts chosen by Vaughan Williams concern the journey of the soul, and the enormous power possessed by each individual soul that goes beyond earth and out into the boundless universe on its journey. Therefore, the whole symphony is involved with the idea of journeying forth during one’s earthly life to unknown, exploratory regions, unimaginable until experienced. Sailing the seas is the metaphor used by Whitman and so well understood by Vaughan Williams for that very journey of going beyond the horizon into the unknown, as each of us experience.For this article, it is the fi nal movement, with text from the section ‘Passage to India’, that takes our attention. The three-part chord sequence is heard with two sets of words: let’s examine the fi rst passage: ‘O Thou transcendent. Nameless the fi bre and the breath. Light of the light …’, which is seen as musical example (xxi):

Musical example (xxi):

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In musical example (xxi), we hear the words, ‘O thou transcendent’ twice. Firstly, exposed and sung by the two soloists (soprano and baritone) in octaves supported by the orchestra, providing the harmony. This is immediately repeated, much louder, by the full chorus. The two soloists then continue with the text, ‘the fi bre and the breath’, which refer to the body, matter, in which is housed the soul. There is a brief modulatory section through ‘B fl at Major’ and ‘A fl at Major’, both of which include two of the three chords in the sequence.

This text refers to the soul being capable of transcendence – of moving beyond or-dinary human experience, out into an other-worldly space – a clear reference to the universe, which is limitless and beyond our comprehension. It appears highly signifi cant that a recent documentary about Vaughan Williams has been given the title, ‘O Thou Transcendent’;16 this title has been used in order to show how the life and works of Vaughan Williams took music (and us, the listeners to his music) on a spiritual journey, which didn’t end until his death at the age of 85. Its choice as a title for the documentary of his entire life and output also highlights the fact that this Symphony, written in his mid-30s, is among the most original, and signifi cant of his entire output. Musically, it contains much that is quintessential Vaughan Williams.The second hearing of the chord sequence uses the text: ‘Greater than stars and suns, Bounding O soul, thou journeyest forth!’. This forms musical example (xxi).

Musical example (xxi):

In this second example leading into rehearsal fi gure U, there are two more hearings of the sequence, again both in ‘C Major’, as with its original hearing at fi gure R. It is by the Chorus alone, with a crescendo from piano to forte, from mezzo forte to fortissimo and a change of pace at fi gure U. The tempo for all this section is slow, so that the chord sequence is once again easily registered, highlighted and so underlined, as in virtually all the occasions discussed above. The text of this second hearing of the three chords is: ‘(greater) than stars or suns […]’ and ‘O soul, thou (journeyest forth) […]’

Clearly, all fi ve full hearings of the three-chord sequence (plus one partial version) in just three and a half minutes of music, and nowhere else in the whole work of seventy minutes, are at the heart of the entire piece; the text consistently refers to the soul, ‘thou

16 Oh Thou Transcendent: The Life of Ralph Vaughan Williams. Tony Palmer, UK. Released January 1st, 2008, 2 hours 29 minutes. It contains 32 scenes, and is the fi rst exhaustive documentary of the composer’s life and work.

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actual me’, reaching out to the ‘regions infi nite’ while being ‘bathed in God’. In all hea-rings, the three-chord sequence appears at the end of a short phrase, as the cadence in ‘C Major’, with the note values lengthening in value, eff ecting a slowing down.

In other words, on each occasion, it is heard as a point of arrival, a place for a small pause, allowing us time to digest the material, before the music/thoughts/meanings move on. The fact that the fi rst hearing – ‘O Thou transcendent’ is heard twice, one after the other, increasing in texture, volume and intensity, draws attention to these words set to the three-chord sequence.

Vaughan Williams used the sequence at least once more, in 1923, at the very be-ginning and elsewhere, in his one-movement work, Sea Songs.17 This work consists of arrangements of three folk tunes in G major, and the composer begins the music with an ‘e minor’ chord, repeated three times, then followed by D major, and fi nally with a G major chord – in other words, chords vi, V and I in G major. The fact that this is part of his Sea Songs for Brass Band, makes a direct link, consciously or sub-consciously by him, with his previously written ‘Sea Symphony’.

Discussion: a common ground of meaning

It is evident from this brief excursion through each of these examples, that there are some strong overlaps in the ways that composers have imbued meaning in their music by use of these three chords. For example, the three-chord sequence is heard slowly – and sometimes, very slowly indeed; plus, the note values are long and often lengthen during the sequence, thus drawing individual attention to the nature and character of each of the chords within the sequence. In addition, the volume, and so intensity of the setting, increases throughout the three chords, and, this forms part of the overall contextual meaning. Here follows a synthesis of the contextual ideas present in all thirteen musical examples, to form a simply hypothesis.

Marin Alsop, the American conductor has introduced the Strauss setting from Also Sprach Zarathustra as ‘one of the most recognisable musical excerpts in history […] what makes a piece of music resonate with so many people?’ she asks. The answer she

17 Sea Songs is a single movement March based on three sea melodies, namely The Princess Royal, Admiral Benbow and Portsmouth. The melody, ‘Portsmouth’, was fi rst published in 1701, as part of John Playford’s The Dancing Master. It is occasionally referred to as the Portsmouth Hornpipe – a sailor’s dance. This author fi rst knew Vaughan-Williams’ arrangement because it was used as the signature tune for the quintessentially English television programme, Billy Bunter of Grayfriar’s School, broadcast by the BBC from 1952 to 1961. This choice of music for something so utterly English accentuates the very English nature of the music, too. The sea as a dominating theme in English music, folk-dance, drama and painting, displays its importance within British/English culture. Britain is, after all, surrounded by the sea, and the population is a mixture of waves of migrants from Continental Europe who have moved there over the past millennia. Britain’s history and culture are therefore dominated by the eff ects of being an island-nation, and by the sea itself.

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provides is that ‘the trumpets enter in unison, playing a fanfare-like fi gure based on perfect intervals. Perfect intervals give a sense of possibility and vastness. I immediately think of Copland’s Fanfare For The Common Man […] the eff ects are identical: strength, breadth, optimism, possibility […] Strauss repeats the opening fanfare three times, each time gai-ning in intensity, until it fi nally breaks free and arrives at a majestic cadence in the key of C major – the universal key […]’. What she terms as this ‘majestic cadence’, of course, is the very three-chord sequence, which is the subject of this article.

Alsop continues: ‘We feel C major in a very primal way as human beings […] when Kubrick chose this opening music for 2001: A Space Odyssey, his desire was to elicit that same emotional response from viewers: to contemplate the vastness and possibility of the universe and to bring forward the same questions that Nietzsche proposed in 1885 about God, about humankind and about our existence here in the natural world […] Nietzsche wanted us, as human beings, to reconsider our value system and […] start to hold ourselves accountable for our own actions […]’18

Another recent conductor of the Strauss work, Gustavo Dudamel talks of that famous opening, by indicating that ‘Strauss’ interpretation and conception of Nietzsche, that clear idea of the power possessed by human beings, the individual divinity within all of us – it’s all implicit in his music …’19

If we now broaden these views to examine Vaughan Williams’ use of the three-chord sequence, also in ‘C Major’, we can see that there are common religio-philosophical ideas behind these settings – a description of the soul, and its relation to the world, to the uni-verse, to the idea of God, to the power of the soul to transform an individual, or groups of people, communities, and even the world. In other words, something common to our quintessential humanity, meaningful to us all, to what has gone in the past, is present right here now for us to consider (after all, 2001 of the fi lm, has long passed), and for the future of humankind.

Here we have the essence of the examples in this article, and perhaps most clearly with the message in the Vaughan Williams’ work; his symphony has the same questioning subject matter. Also, the Resurrection examples point us towards answers to the big life questions, of where God fi ts into our lives, and what happens to our souls after death; the big life searches all of us experience at some time or other as questioning, emotional beings, set on a small planet in a vast, incomprehensibly massive universe is a common theme of these musical examples. There is nothing more philosophical, and indeed, reli-gious that can unite both humanity, its thinking and its music.

18 Decoding Strauss’ Tone Poem, January 13, 2012, heard on Weekend Edition Saturday Marin Alsop. NPRMusic.org, from an interview with Scott Simon for NPR News.

19 Gustavo Dudamel quoted in Zarathustra: The Universe according to Strauss. Melissa Lesnie, January 24, 2014, ‘Limelight Magazine’, ABC, Australia; accessed from www.limelightmagazine.com.au, May 7, 2016.

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God is therefore an important part of this thinking, and the Russian examples all exist due to a human belief in a loving and helping God, who has built the Universe, and saw that it was good. The Rimsky-Korsakov example indeed comes from the central idea of Christianity – that God sent His son, who died and rose again from the dead. The pow-er, mentioned by Marin Alsop as being present in the Strauss, is also there in each and every one of the musical examples. The Tschaikovski, and to a lesser extent, the examples in Mussourgski, represent other tenets of Christianity – of God helping His people in a positive way – we are His and He is ours, and He will help save us from catastrophe and complete annihilation.

The fact that the Soul as representative of our very nature as humans, is also found in the Monteverdi with the setting of the word, ‘magnifi cat’ referring to Mary’s soul magnifying the Lord, while Mary’s spirit rejoiced in God, her Saviour. Again, this is a central part of the life of Jesus, and Mary as the mother of God the Son, as critical to Christianity. The Mahler example also refers straight back to the relation of Jesus and Mary, as shown by the symbolic use of the red rose – the bleeding heart of Jesus, and Mary, the mother of God, the Son. He used it within the context of resurrection of the soul. We will all rise up and live again.

The fact that a slow movement in a Bruckner Symphony, following on from those of Beethoven, is spiritual, spirit-fi lled experience for both the performer and listener, is magnifi ed in the example shown in this article. Bruckner even appended some of his works with dedication ‘dem lieben Gott’ – to his beloved God, which show the religious nature behind the inspiration for his music.20 Indeed, the sequence of three chords in the Bruckner, exemplifi es most of the musical characteristics found in the other examples – slow moving, long notes, a crescendo, warm-sounding stringed instruments predominating in simple four part harmony, in a context of a spiritual experience; they form a summary of the sparing and sparse use of these three chords in sequence by composers across 350 years.

The fi nal symbolic meaning behind the three-chords, is that they are often used within a modulation, where a modulation shifts us in meaning from one level to another, musi-cally. The fact that this musical material is from a minor scale tonality to a Major, is quite a shift of place and time, to another level of thought, meaning and ideas.

The very rarity of this harmonic progression of three chords, already makes it wor-thy of scrutiny. In addition, the context for each of the uses of this chord sequence is remarkably similar, or overlapping in their symbolic meanings. These facts alone lead this author to propose that these three contiguous chords represent an aspect of the religio-philosophical nature of humanity; they confi rm the basic spirituality of us all that is not possible to put into words, but we can all hear and feel passionately in musical sound. In other words, these three chords can be considered as our souls portrayed as refl ection of

20 An example of this is his unfi nished Symphony no. 9 in d minor, with its spiritually-charged, Beetho-venian third movement: adagio, langsam, feierlich – ‘ceremonially slow’, is very much related to the other works mentioned in this article.

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God, in music. It is almost like we can say that these three chords in sequence are a ‘gift’ from God – they are His symbol, built into music to remind us of Him and His presence in our spiritual life both now and whenever this music is performed in the future.

Defi ning Moments of the Spirit and Soul in Music

Abstract

This article represents an attempt to describe the use of a sequence of three-chord, com-prising the sub-mediant, followed by the dominant and thirdly, the tonic by composers from 1610 (Monteverdi) to 1948 (Richard Strauss). During that time, this three-chord sequence has been used sparingly – by just nine composers – but is used in two of the most well-known and loved orchestral works. The author poses the questions: why has it been used so infrequently? What is the contextual meaning of this chord sequence by each composer? Is there anything signifi cantly similar between the meaning of the chord sequence across all the works of these nine composers? Surprisingly, there was no use of this chord sequence between Monteverdi and Beethoven. After investigation, the author shows that the reverse of the sequence, tonic, dominant, sub-mediant chords, was a stand-ard sequence in works from the Baroque through to the present day, often as an ostinato pattern. From Pachelbel’s Canon in D to songs by the Beatles, Bob Marley, and many other famous, contemporary singer-song writers. On the other hand, the author shows that the use of the three-chords, is either as cadence or at the beginning of a phrase; it can also be used as a means of modulating, from a minor to a Major key. From Monteverdi on through the list, the contextual meaning of the sequence, sometimes with a text, and sometimes without, has a religio-philosophical spiritual meaning and use. Most of the composers set the sequence to a Christian text (Magnifi cat, Easter hymns, Resurrection) while others use folk texts or celebrated poetry, to describe philosophically the journey of the soul from birth to death and beyond.

Určující momenty Ducha a Duše v hudbě

Abstrakt

Studie se pokouší ukázat využití sekvence tří akordů, respektive harmonických funkcí (konkrétně spodní medianty, za níž následuje dominanta a tónika) u skladatelů v období od roku 1610 (Monteverdi) do roku 1948 (Richard Strauss). V průběhu tohoto období byl zmíněný harmonický postup používán pouze zřídka (pouze u devíti skladatelů), objevuje se ale ve dvou nejznámějších a nejoblíbenějších orchestrálních skladbách. Autor si klade následující otázky: proč je využívání dané sekvence tak ojedinělé? Jaký je kontextuální význam sekvence v dílech jednotlivých skladatelů? Existuje zde společný

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významový jmenovatel? Je překvapivé, že se uvedená sekvence tří akordů od Monteverdiho po Beethovena téměř nevyskytuje. Na základě výzkumu autor ukazuje, že obrácený sled harmonických funkcí či akordů dané sekvence (tedy tónika, dominanta, spodní medianta), je v hudbě od baroka až po současnost naopak velmi frekventovaný, často jako ostinátní harmonický základ skladby. Příkladem může být Pachelbelův Kánon v D-dur, stejně tak skladby the Beatles, Boba Marleyho a mnoha dalších slavných současných skladatelů a písničkářů. Autor ukazuje, že pojednávaný harmonický sled může fungovat jako kadence či jako úvodní fráze; může být rovněž využitý jako prostředek k modulaci z mollové do durové tóniny. U Monteverdiho a dalších pojednávaných skladatelů má sekvence, jež je v některých případech doprovázena literárním textem, nábožensko-fi lozofi cký význam a funkci. Většina skladatelů ji doprovází křesťanskými texty (Magnifi cat, Velikonoční hymny, Vzkříšení), někteří využívají lidové texty či oslavnou poezii s cílem fi lozofi cky vyjádřit putování duše od zrození k smrti a po ní.

KeywordsThree-chord sequence; use and meaning of the sequence; religio-philosophical meaning defi ned in music; the human spirit and soul in music.

Klíčová slovaAkordická sekvence tří harmonických funkcí; funkce a význam sekvence; nábožensko--fi lozofi cký význam vyjádřený prostřednictvím hudby; lidský duch a duše v hudbě.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Max Brod as a Music Critic1

Michał Jaczyński

Max Brod started his career as a music critic just before the end of the First World War after his brilliant press campaign with regard to the Jenufa – an opera by Leoš Janáček whose Viennese premiere took place in the Hofoper on 16 February 1918.2 According to the Brod’s articles and reviews concerning Janáček and his work – which were fi rst published in many German-language newspapers (e.g., Die Zeit, Schaubühne,3 Der Auftakt) and then reprinted in the Sternenhimmel, a collected volume of music and theatre reviews published in Prague in 1923 – Jenufa was almost a wonder of the Czech national opera. Brod claimed that Jenufa had been forgotten and underestimated since its Prague premiere (1916) simply because the war had upset the Czech society so much that it had become unable to appreciate the new masterpiece of national art.4 Moreover, he regarded listen-ing to Jenufa as one of few uplifting moments (glückliches Ereignis) during the war and allowing him to feel the joy of life again.5 Subsequently, he made “the case of Janáček” a personal struggle: his later remarks on the composer and his music are highly emotional and characteristically subjective.

Those enthusiastic remarks sparked protests. For some part of the Viennese press running a premiere in 1918 was impolitic as it did not take into account the existing ten-sion between the Germans and Czechs. It was said that the authorities of the Hofoper, facing the inevitable fall of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, had wanted to be politically

1 This paper resulted from the source query which involved the collection of reviews and critical articles by Max Brod Sternenhimmel. Musik- und Theaterrlebnisse (Prag: Orbis; München: Kurt Wolff , 1923), and archival resources of the “Prager Tagblatt” available on the website www.aano.onb (the years’ issues 1935 and 1939 were unavailable).

2 Brod translated many librettos of Czech operas into German. Jenufa staged in the Hofoper was the fi rst of them.

3 After 1918 that renowned Berliner periodical changed its title to “Weltbühne”.4 Cf. Illustriertes Oesterreichsches Journal, April 10, 1918.5 Max Brod, “Leoš Janáček’s Jenufa (1916),” in Sternenhimmel.

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correct to its bitter end, and thereby had included the Czech opera in the repertoire to prevent the national stage from “denationalisation” (entnazionalisiert).6 As a result, Brod was criticized for using turgid language and for the groundless enthusiasm.7 He was also alleged to be self-seeking i.e. to promote the results of his own work as a translator of the libretto into German, which was strongly supported by the fact that Janáček himself, in a press interview, regarded Brod’s translation as a literary masterpiece being far from a conventional libretto and taking into account all the nuances (Schattierungen) present in his music.8 In response to Brod’s remarks Richard Batka, a leading German-language music critic in Prague, wrote in the “Fremdenblatt”:9

The naturalistic music by Janáček is hardly interesting and many Czechs of equal musical talent have never deserved to have their works performed in the Court Opera. Janáček is barely a musical genius.

A columnist from the Ilustriertes Oesterreichisches Journal suggested Brod “to be more objective”. 10 Only Julius Korngold, a prominent critic of the Neue Freie Presse, did not show a dislike for Janáček and Brod. Hence, he described the composer in a manner which was visibly infl uenced by Brod’s opinions and his translation of the libretto:

Unpredictable brain, he has struggled with everybody for his beliefs, which raised confl icts. Therefore he is a Mahler-like fi gure.11

The remarks by Korngold and Brod are parallel as both critics rendered Janáček as “unpredictable” and both refer to Mahler who – according to Brod – was a unique and unprecedented artist, an apostle of an illustrious idea (such as Janáček). Brod didn’t hesitate to call Mahler and Janáček genius composers because of their specifi c position within the Central European musical culture. He considered them treasurers of the idea of national art: art inseparably rooted in its cultural background. Brod thought that Mahler and Janáček had been honest and uncompromising in accepting their own “individual-ity” or “distinctness” i.e. in deliberate shaping their artistic self without referring to the current trends in the European art.

It is obvious that such an interpretation of the artistic attitude by Mahler and Janáček was infl uenced by Zionism. In 1912 Brod met Martin Buber. Since then he has considered

 6 Cf. “Theater und Kunst Nachrichten,” Neue Freie Presse, January 30, 1918, 10. 7 Cf. Deutsches Volksblatt, February 13, 1918, 6; Karl Schreder, “Jenufa,” Fremdenblatt, Februa-

ry 17, 1918. 8 “Gespräch mit Leos Janacek,” Neues Wiener Journal, February 15, 1918, 4. 9 “Ein Genie, freilich, erscheint er uns nicht”. Richard Batka, “Feuilleton. Jenufa,” Fremdenblatt,

February 17, 1918, 2.10 “Distanz bekommen müssen wir!”. Hans Liebrtäglch, “Jenufa,” Ilustriertes Oesterreichisches Journal,

No. 41 (1918): 2.11 Julius Korngold, “Feuilleton. Hofoperntheater,” Neue Freie Presse, February 17, 1918, 1.

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Zionist ideology as a starting point towards a perfect form of life. That form would be, of course, religious – in accordance with the Chassidic maxim “serving God with joy” (“Gott mit Freude zu dienen”).12 Consequently, the art would strive to refl ect that spiritual community. In a gloss to his monograph about Franz Kafka Brod wrote:

A man belonging to a nation bereft of its fatherland cannot live in dignity.13

It is a typical example of his affi rmation of the art interrelated with the life-nation being a source of morality and strength and a community based on faith.

The descriptions of Janáček made by Brod between 1918 and 1923 are primarily an-thropologic: in order to uncover the secret of the unique art by the Czech composer, music critic has shown him as private man in his own environment. Hence, provincial Brno from the article A Journey to Janáček (Die Reise zu Janáček)14 was depicted as a perfect background for a composer being geographically and psychologically isolated from the contemporary world with its commercialization and omnipresent politics. In Brod’s eyes, Janáček was an optimist who used to consider the life and himself simpleheartedly or even naively. His faith, joy typical of children, and sense of humor full of understanding would made him “young sage” who despite many fails has never become bitter and who has retained unbroken and vigorous power of creation – another proof that God every day carries out his plan regarding illustrious men.

To explain the metaphysical aspect of Janáček’s art Brod referred to the fi gure of composer Kreisler by E. T. A Hoff man. According to him, Janáček and Kreisler “do not know how they compose”15 and the results are outstanding. Janáček creates his musical universe with the simplest means and subsequently it is far from standards typical of the contemporary music, including the clichés of the “offi cial” national music. Brod prefers Jenufa to the operas by Smetana and Dvořák because the former is not a mere facade for national myths but a universal story about human nature and timeless values:

…it is a human opera. Its setting – among Moravian peasants. A drama of supreme love, of the greatest sacrifi ce for the posterity. A drama of delicate conscience which is deaden for a moment but then falls into the guilt and in the end openly confesses to the whole world […] The fi nal scene show the essence of fi ery love than philosophical essays and allows the pure humanity to burst from the folklore if the latter is properly approached, without egoism. For me that music unveils what is “nation” and “nationalism” better than all other theories.16

12 Cf. “Martin Buber 50 Jahre alt,” Pager Tagblatt, February 8, 1929, 6.13 Max Brod, Franz Kafka, trans. Tadeusz Zabłudowski (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1982), 231.14 Max Brod, “Die Reise zu Janáček,” in Sternenhimmel, 42–50.15 Ibidem, 46, idem, Chorkonzert, Ibidem, 52. 16 „…eine menschliche Oper, die unter mahrischen Bauern spielt. Ein Drama höchster Liebe, höchster

Aufopferung, für den Nächsten!. Ein Drama des zarten Gewissens und des einen Augenblick lang getaubten Gewissens, das in Schuld gerät und zum Schluss vor der ganzen Welt off entlich seine

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For Brod a perfect national opera should contain “humanity instead of ‘the opera’ with its theatrical hatred”.17 Therefore, he stressed the fact that Janáček’s approach to the opera was independent on the current artistic conventions and thus “timeless” (Zeitlossigkeit), “eternal” (Ewigkeit) and “pristine” (Urschöpfung).18 The last of those features would re-fl ect the inseparable bond between Janáček’s music and his folk background: “Each of his modulations and motifs comprises that intimate and never exaggerated folk tradition”.19

Discussing the particular musical elements and solutions in Jenufa, Brod compared that opera with the works by Wagner, Verdi, Debussy or even Bach in order to uncover the uniqueness of the style and techniques used by Janáček. His most valuable remarks regard, of course, the Janáček’s theory of speech melodies (nápěvky mluvy) and how it shapes the melody and harmony in his musical works. More importantly, Brod did not share the opinion – common among music critics – that Janáček’s method was simply an example of naturalism:

The realism of that unique method may seem to be suspicious. But that’s why it is so ex-traordinary. Here the melody does not follow the speech, yet is the tool that suggests and shapes the words. Janáček himself told how he used to derive harmony: “A motif closely intertwined with a word refl ects its own heat, shines in its own light. I cut its melody and rhythm as facets of a gemstone”.20

Brod took note of the fact that Janáček conducted the orchestra in a diff erent manner than Wagner because in his operas “the core of the music” (Hauptmusik) resonates from the stage, as in the past; Brod compared a cantilena by the Czech composer to the can-tilena by Verdi, but according to him the former was devoid of eclecticism as the genius of Janáček created real voices of nature (Naturlaute) – vigorous and fi rm melodies which resemble genuine Moravian folksongs. After depicting the impact of expressionism and impressionism on Janáček’s music (the issue of staticness), Brod granted it the status of

Schuld gesteht […] Schlussszene mehr als philosophische Essays uns in den Mittelpunkt jeder liebeglühenden Idee versetzt, die aus dem Wahrheit und ohne Eigensucht gefühlten Völkischen reine Menschlichkeit hervorspritzen lässt, wie diese göttliche Musik mir mehr über das Wesen der Nation und des wahren Nationalismus sagt als alle Theorie.” (Max Brod, “Jenufa Uebersetzung,” in Sternenhimmel, 33, 22).

17 “Menschlichkeit, nicht Opernhaftigkeit, Menschlichkeit, nicht Nationalitatenhass!”. Ibidem, 35.18 Ibidem, 41.19 “Und dieses intime Volkshafte, niemals vergröberte drückt sich in jeder Modulation, jedem Motiv

Janacek’s aus”. (Max Brod, “Leos Janáček’s Jenufa,” in Sternenhimmel, 25.20 „Der Realismus dieser eigenartige Methode könnte verdacht erwecken. Hier aber setzt der

Genius aup. Nicht die Wortmelodie, sondern Eingebung, Umformung tritt in das Kunstwerk. „Ein Wortmotiv“ sagt Janacek, „atmet in eigener Wärme, glänzt in Eigenlicht. Ich schleife seinen melodischen Kanten, seinen rhytmischen Flächen – wie die Edelstein. Aus diesem Element leitet er weiter die Harmonie ab“. (Max Brod, “Leoš Janaček’s Jenufa,” in Sternenhimmel, 25.

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an absolute music due to the fact that the composer was versed in classical techniques i.e. reprise, variation, gradation, augmentation and subtle changes of the rhythm.21

Later on, in his article One More Word about Jenufa (Noch ein Wort zur Jenufa),22 Brod once again criticized the attempts to label Janáček as naturalist or impressionist. In his opinion, the composer was a “stylist of melody” (Stilkunstler der Melodie) because instead of “frosting” naturalistic motifs he sketched the melodies of speech from nature. The latter process was ingeniously compared by Brod to the early stage of teaching draw-ing i.e. sketching nudes (Aktzeichnen) – in other words, Janáček would have started his musical way as a “craftsman collecting the archive of melodic motifs” and the fi nal result would have been a miracle. In the same article Brod placed Janáček’s music somewhere between the opera universe by Verdi and by Wagner, because the melodies of his arias are declamatory and his recitatives full of pithy melodic fragments.23

There is an obvious analogy between Janáček’s comments regarding his own music and Brod’s remarks. The more active party in that couple was very probably Brod. The certain proof of his infl uence on Janáček’s self-refl ection is how much the composer stresses the impact of the authenticity of the art on the gestation of his mind – the authenticity stem-med, of course, from close relationship between the artist and his geographical-natural background. In his late paper entitled The Creation (Das Schaff en) Janáček wrote:

I particularly appreciate the warmth I feel in my mind and blood whenever I sense that miracle of nature which surrounded me in my youth. All composers are children of their specifi c sensitivity, however, it has nothing to do with a science. An artist is rather a reser-voir of certain predispositions. I am surprised with myriads of rhythms of the universe of colors, lights, sounds and dimensions. The eternally young rhythm of the eternally young nature is a mirror which brings life into all tones of my music.24

More interestingly, in a series of Brod’s remembrance articles and in his monograph dedi-cated to Franz Kafka (published 1937), the author of Metamorphosis was provided with the same character traits as Janáček and made the advocate of similar artistic policy. The following excerpt from the above-mentioned monograph is a perfect example of blending the personalities of Janáček and Kafka by Brod:

21 Ibidem.22 Sternenhimmel, 17–30.23 Ibidem, 26.24 „Gepriesen sich jene besondere, in Hirn und Blut ererbte Wärme des Empfi ndens für die Wunder

der Natur, die meine Jugend umgaben! Das Empfi nden macht den Komponisten; nich so sehr im wissenschaftlichen Sinn als im Schatz der Veranlagung. Ich staune über die tausend rhytmischen Erscheinungen der Welt des Lichtes, der Farbe, des Klanges und Raumes, und mein Ton verjüngt sich im ewig jungen Rhytmus der ewig jungen Natur.“ Leoš Janáček, Musik des Lebenp. Skizzen, Feuilletons, Studien, trans. Jan Gruna (Leipzig: Reclam, 1979), 68.

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In the course of time all that [Kafka] said or wrote has begun to refl ect – more and more naturally, without constraint – his specifi c way of seeing things, the way that was affi rma-tive, full of patience and tolerant irony for the foolishness of this world and therefore fi lled with painful humor; however, Kafka has never overlooked the “indestructible” core of truth and so never become blasé or cynical25 […] He has never told: “Look, it is the right way” or even “It is also a way”. He has just stridden forward – being fully absorbed with his way, without seeking philosophical terms (his marvelous diaries prove that he thought only with images), and being busy solely with the avid observation of details unveiled to him by the changeable perspectives of the way26 […].

Brod’s monograph of Kafka may be helpful if one wants to fi nd the sources of his earlier enthusiasm for Mahler, for the fi rst time expressed in the article Jewish Folk Melodies (Jüdische Volskmelodien) that was published in 1916 in Der Jude, a Zionistic periodical edited by Martin Buber, and then (1920) reprinted under the title of Jewish Melodies of Gustaw Mahler (Gustav Mahler’s jüdische Melodien) in the Musikblätter des Anbruch, an interwar Viennese magazine dedicated to the new music.27

Brod’s approach to the riddle of Mahler is barely diff erent to his later treatment of Janáček – he once again takes the readers to a separate universe. This time it is a world of Galician Chasidim who settled in Prague. Brod plays a role of mystagogue who uncov-ers its wonders: shows the readers a synagogue where a rabbi accompanied by a choir of voices –alternatively the low, masculine and the high, boyish ones – chants “holy” Chassidic melodies. That mystical choir unexpectedly turns out to resemble something “deeply Jewish” (tief jüdische) i.e. the music of Mahler, and Brod enumerates the features responsible for that resemblance. According to the critic, one of them is frequent use of march rhythms by Mahler. Contrary to other critics, Brod derives them neither from the infl uence of military music, well known to Mahler, nor from German folksongs. Instead, he reads “eternal boom – tra – ra” (ewiges Bum – tra – ra) into the rhythm of Chassidic folksongs, which, in his opinion, can be seen in subtle rhythmic nuances, in the very characteristic alternation between major and minor systems in melismas, as well as in the “acceleration” to the proper pace through the repetition of the same sound several times; hardly recognizable for non-Jewish ear, it would nonetheless prove the Jewish roots of the genius of Mahler (in the spirituality of his symphonies march rhythm would stand for the souls on their way to God). Apart from that, Brod found “Jewish soul” in Mahler’s music analyzing – in the manner described above – the composer’s songs, especially the song cycle entitled Des Knaben Wunderhorn. All features of that musical works that seemed to be incoherent, styleless, odd or even cynical to the German ear, Brod ascribed to the fact that they are echoes of the “tone of the heart” (Herzensgrundton) shared by all artists of Jewish origin. In the conclusion of his article Brod attributes the Jewish inspirations by

25 Max Brod, Franz Kafka, 94.26 Ibidem, 75.27 Max Brod, „Jüdische Volksmelodien,“ Der Jude, No. 5 (1916): 344; idem, „Gustav Mahlers Jüdische

Melodien,“ Musikblätter des Anbruch, No. 10 (1920): 378–379.

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Mahler to the spirit of the Orient, which is not at all surprising because it allows him for interpreting such works as The Earth Song by means of the same critical method.

In his book Jewishness in Music (Das Judentum in der Musik, 1926) Hans Berl stressed the importance of Brod as a discoverer of Jewish substratum (jüdische Substanz) in Mahler’s music. Berl borrowed many Brod’s concepts and included them in his own conception regarding the position of Jewish music within the European culture. Among those concepts the most important was the belief in an ahistorical character of the men-tioned substratum in art.28 Berl shared with Brod also the conviction that the rhythm has been primordial source of music as such, and both believed in linearism i.e. primary role of melody in all music “engrafted” with Jewish spirit. Therefore, they both considered Mahler and Schönberg as composers of the future, able to oppose Wagner’s musical style based on the predominance of harmony.

Brod altogether used to seek for everlasting and immutable (folk or national) elements in the musical style of various composers. In the Sternenhimmel, the previously men-tioned volume of reviews, he described the music of several Czech composers using that framework. It is exactly the case of Brod’s masterpiece of literary style and use of biblical metaphors – the sketch about the fantasy for violin by Josef Suk (Brod regarded that work as a proof of vitality of the Slavic music)29, and of the similar sketch concerning the music by Vítězslav Novák.30 Apart from that, in the same volume Brod commented on the opera The Distant Sound (Der ferne Klang) by Franz Schreker31 (making wide use of the notion of “naturalness”), and on the comic opera by Alexander Zemlinsky Fine Feathers Make Fine Birds (Kleider machen Leute)32. Yet the most important of Brod’s reviews regarded the music of Arnold Schönberg i.e. his Gurre-Lieder33 and Pierrot lunaire.34 In the fi rst of those reviews Brod made and attempt to derive the specifi city of Schönberg’s art from the “organic” coherence between his unfl inching policy as a composer and as a theorist – he placed Schönberg’s music within the post-Wagner tradition, but emphasized the fact that the composer had remained original and avoided epigonic imitation of Wagner’s manner. Brod found the “poster music” by Richard Strauss an exemplifi cation of such epigonism. In his opinion Schönberg took an inspiration from romantics (melodists!) – R. Schumann and H. Wolf – thereby going beyond the Wagner’s “hard” stylistics. Then Brod makes use of the same framework as in the case of Mahler: according to him Schönberg’s music is soulful and almost divinized, eternity-heading (which, of course, stems from the traces of Jewish spirituality, absent in Wagner’s music inspired by Germanic myths). In the review of the Pierrot lunaire Brod claims that Schönberg brought revolutionary (and very

28 Hans Berl, Das Judentum in der Musik (Stuttgart-Berlin-Leipzig: Dt. Verl.-Anst. 1926), 222.29 Max Brod, „Ein Wort für Meister Josef Suk,“ in Sternenhimmel, 95–98.30 Max Brod, „Über Vitezslav Novaks ‘Sturm’,“ in Sternenhimmel, 99–101.31 Max Brod, „Der ferne Klang,“ in Sternenhimmel, 110–111.32 Ibidem, 103–107.33 Max Brod, „A. Schönberg’s ‘Gurre-Lieder’,“ in Sternenhimmel, 81–87.34 Max Brod, „Pierrot lunaire. Liederzyklus von Arnold Schönberg,“ in Sternenhimmel, 90–94.

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desirable) changes to music returning to chamber arrangement and rejecting Wagner’s monumental manner. Yet this time he does not analyze the religious background of Schönberg’s music because he was not emotionally moved by the Pierrot lunaire: that composition, despite being an instrumental masterpiece, was too cold for him.

At the beginning of 1924 Brod took a regular job in the Prager Tagblatt, a German-language liberal-democratic daily newspaper. His duties consisted mainly of writing stage play reviews (including theatre plays, operettas and ballets – especially the premieres) and literary columns (the most interesting are his columns concerning the magical places). Apart from that, in the column entitled “Bühne und Kunst” (Stage and Art) he penned many musical reviews, signed either Max Brod or M.B., which regarded the current events from the Prague musical life. From time to time Brod used those events as a pretext for delivering his opinions with respect to music. They were also a great source of literary inspiration and pure fun, as Brod frequently played with his audience and beguiled it. Once, in order to encourage the readers to react for the reviews less blindly, he published two versions of the review of the premiere of the same operetta (one positive and one negative). He wrote also several reviews of his own literary works35 and of the operas which he provided with a German-language libretto. In his article concerning the opera Schwanda the Bagpiper by Jaromír Weinberger (published one day before its premiere in the German Theatre in Prague, 1929) Brod fi nally felt compelled to explain the reasons of such bias (he used exactly that word).36 Perhaps the funniest of his jokes was using an article by Schönberg advertizing a new musical periodical as a starting point for an innovative solmization, this time based on the fi rst syllables of the surnames of the four contemporary German composers: Hi(ndemith) – Ho(nagger) – Hu(bay) – Há(ba).37

There is big diff erence between the earlier Brod’s music criticism and his works pub-lished as a collaborator of the Prager Tagblatt. The main reviewer in that newspaper was Ernst Rychnowsky, a respected German-speaking Prague author (his monograph of Smetana has been highly valued since its publication).38 Being an assistant reviewer, Brod decided to avoid crossing swords with him and so hardly ever assessed new compositions, including those by Janáček. Even in his rare reviews of opera plays he focused on the performance and set design; the assessment of the music itself remained Rychnowski’s domain, especially in the case of world premieres.39 Subsequently, Brod found courage to

35 Max Brod, “Max Brods ‘Prozess Buntelart’,” Prager Tagblatt, October 12, 1924, 6.36 Max Brod, “Schwanda der Dudelsackspfeiff er,” Prager Tagblatt, April 14, 1929, 8.37 Max Brod, “Arnold Schönbergs neue Notenschrift,” Prager Tagblatt, January 31, 1925, 8.38 Rychnowsky worked in the “Prager Tagblatt” until the end of the 1920s. His successor was Walter

Seidl. Apart from them, the critical staff comprised several renowned authors e.g., Max Graf who later wrote an important book entitled Composer and Critic. In 1928 Graf moved to Vienna and a new critic was employed instead (using the alias Sthd).

39 E.g., Max Brod, “Ariadne auf Naxos,” Prager Tagblatt, May 5, 1927, 7; idem, “Hindemiths ‘Cardillac’ (Auff ührung),” Prager Tagblatt, March 15, 1927, 6; idem, “Die ‘Meistersinger’ Festvorstelung,” Prager Tagblatt, January 7, 1928, 5; idem, “Die Entfühtrung aus dem Serail,” Prager Tagblatt, February

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comment new operas as late as in the late 1920s with the emergence of some new musi-cal works which referred to the folk/national idiom he accepted; such composers as de Falla, Weinberger, Weill or Křenek enlivened it with elements of jazz and popular music. In fact, Brod has always been keen on the art full of simplicity and naturalness and the opera was not an exception. Subsequently, he praised the performance of Gluck’s Orpheus staged in the New German Theatre in 1933 exactly for those two features,40 and his review of Boris Godunov by Mussorgsky begins with the description of the composer as simple, clear and almost “courteous” (höfl ich) classic who has no pretenses to make a revolution in music, and is far from the madding noise of the modern compositions.41 In the article written in 1937 to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of Pushkin’s death Brod once again referred to Mussorgsky and derived his musical genius from the infl uence of “deep darkness of religious memories” (tiefe Dunkel religiöser Erinnerungen) on his mind.42

It is not fortunate that in the period of his employment in the Prager Tagblatt Brod ceased to made comments on the Jewish element in music and seldom referred to the works by Mahler and Schönberg – albeit he considered the latter as a sage and founder of the new music (I will discuss that issue later).43 Regarding Mahler, in 1927 Brod told that his music had become classical and therefore it was pointless to give it more critical support.44 His incidental remarks on Mahler, penned on the occasion of various perfor-mances of Mahler’s symphonies, contain the same repertoire of speculations about their background – spiritual, religious or Dionysian (after Nietzsche).45 However, in his review of the Mahler’s Symphony no. 7 conducted by Alexander Zemlinsky (1927) the critic made an attempt to fi nd a connection between the reviewed work and the romantic idea. In

17, 1928, 6; idem, “Ariadne auf Naxos,” Prager Tagblatt, March 2, 1930, 8; idem, “Parsifal,” Prager Tagblatt, April 29, 1930, 8.

40 Max Brod, “Glucks ‘Orpheus’,” Prager Tagblatt, January 18, 1933, 5.41 Max Brod, “Boris Godunov,” Prager Tagblatt, February 6, 1934, 8.42 Max Brod, “Puschkin,” Prager Tagblatt, January 29, 1937, 7.43 Due to the political background in the interwar era as early as in the 1920s Prager Tagblatt has been

devoided of such expressions as “an artist of Jewish origin” or “Jewish element in music”. Victor Ullman, a Schönberg’s apprentice and a very successful composer at that time – despite being born in Český Těšín (a part of the Austrian Silesia) – was consistently labeled as a “Sudeten German” (see e.g., cf. Ernst Rychnowsky, “Sudetendeutsche Komponisten,” Prager Tagblatt, April 6, 1929, 7).

44 Max Brod, “Bruno Walter dirigiert,” Prager Tagblatt, February 2, 1927, 6.45 See e.g., Max Brod, “Viertes philharmonisches Konzert,” Prager Tagblatt, March 9, 1929, 8 (see

the comments on the performance of the 7th Symphony of Mahler by the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra); idem, “Zu Mahlers erstes Symphonie (dirigiert Zemlinsky),” Prager Tagblatt, December 1, 1931, 6, idem, “Gustav Mahlers ‘Faust-Symphonie’,” Prager Tagblatt, May 19, 1932, 5 (the article regards the 8th Symphony of Mahler and contains a valuable recapitulation of the issues connected with all his symphonies).

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the article regarding the Symphony no. 8 Brod ingeniously found the conjecture between Mahler’s music and Goethe’s Faust, too.46

Schönberg’s works, in turn, have been performed less frequently in Prague since the composer moved to Berlin in 1926. In spite of that, for Brod they remained the touch-stone, as Janáček and Mahler’s music. The critic was consistent in focusing on those of new artists whose compositions – in his opinion – somehow referred to romantic idea or contained religious substratum or “the voice of nature” i.e. folk or dance elements. All those features allowed Brod for making wide use of his conceptual framework developed during the analyzes of the music by Janáček, Mahler and Schönberg. Therefore, he paid much attention to the opera Schwanda the Bagpiper by Weinberger and called that work a perfect example of the modern comic opera making the audience smile and not laugh by means of “its humor and natural warmth of its melody” (natürliche Wärme der Melodie und Humor).47

Brod enjoyed also the Cantata of the Last Things of Man by Ladislav Vycpálek whose world premiere took place in the spring of 1925 in Prague at the International Music Festival (Internationales Musikfest). According to Brod, that work comprised quasi-Mahler’s pantheistic elements (religiöser Naturstimmung). He was particularly impressed by the crescendo in the fi nale – allegedly refl ecting the existence of God – and praised Vycpálek for “brave atonality” (kühne Atonalität) resembling Schönberg’s mu-sic.48 Analogically, he found “romantic irony” and “imitations of folksongs” (Volkslied-Imitation) – in his though typical of Mahler’s manner – in the string quartet by Hans Krása. The review of that quartet, published in 1927, pertains also to the string quartet by Viktor Ullmann which is an atonal, technically challenging piece: Brod praised the composer for using the rhythm of waltz as “reaching the heart”.49 In Ullman’s Concerto for Orchestra Brod appreciated its formal and instrumental intricacy (Problembestaltung), but the main source of his enthusiasm were the march rhythms able to disentangle the structural density of the entire work and to bring joyful feelings.50 All these examples should help us understand why Brod hold Bartók and Danish composer Carl Nielsen in such high esteem: whereas the former incorporated folksongs into his music (as Janáček

46 Max Brod, “Philharmonisches Konzert (Zemlinsky dirigiert Mahlers VII. Symphonie),” Prager Tagblatt, May 15, 1927, 9; idem, “Gustav Mahlers ‘Faust-Symphonie’,” Prager Tagblatt, May 19, 1932, 5 (the article regards the 8th Symphony of Mahler and contains a valuable recapitulation of the issues connected with all his symphonies).

47 Max Brod, “Schwanda, der Dudelsakcspfeiff er,” Prager Tagblatt, December 16, 1928, 7.48 Max Brod, “Vokalkonzert,” Prager Tagblatt, May 19, 1925, 7.49 Max Brod, “Abend Prager Komponisten,” Prager Tagblatt, May 20, 1926, 9.50 Max Brod, “Viertes philharmonisches Konzert,” Prager Tagblatt, March 9, 1929, 8. (Cf. footnote 39

– the reference is to the same concert performed by the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Steinberg.)

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did),51 the latter provided the chamber music with a Nordic aura and with almost religious concentration stemming from the heritage of Bach and Brahms.52 Brod was also an ad-mirer of the cantata Die Lebenden den Toten by Vomáčka (he analyzed that composition with regard to the convincing way of delivering religious texts).53

In 1924 Igor Stravinsky visited Prague. His visit echoed in the local musical circles but his concert turned out to be too challenging for the most of the audience – so many people left before its end that Brod felt himself forced to write the fi rst of the series of his philip-pics against the Prague melomans. It was a fi erce article entitled “Once Again You Have Completely Disgraced Yourself!” („Du hast dich wieder bis auf die Knochen bla miert”!). In that review Brod zealously preached to all doubters that one day Prague would accept Stravinsky as it had accepted Schönberg,54 one more time expressing his critical stance of uncompromising believer in the fi nal victory of the new music he admired.

On the other hand, Brod sometimes went too far in the above-mentioned admiration. His paper on Smetana – an aftermath of the concert performed in the National Theatre in Prague (Národni divadlo) to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Smetana’s death – is a recklessly odd attempt to render that Czech composer as a Schönberg’s predeces-sor (sic!). Brod based his wild conjecture on the alleged presence of the analogical traits and solutions in the musical works by Smetana and Schönberg (e.g. “satanic (sic!) dis-sonances”). “Who then emerges from that piece? [Aus meinen Leben quartet by Smetana – M.J.] A <jolly> man?” – with that rhetorical question Brod summarized his quite twisted description of Smetana.55

It is true that in the course of time Brod has gained more professional experience and his opinions regarding the modern music have become more objective. Yet as a music critic he has never rejected the idea that valuable musical works are much more than “a cold exercise of the mind” (kaltes Verstandübung) – they must refl ect the personality and comprise ideological and expressive content in order to bring life into an element of the culture.56 As a result, he has striven for fi nding such features at all costs. e.g., he “discovered” lyrical (emotional) and romantic traces (technically inherited from Brahms-Reger) in the viola concerto by Hindemith57 under the “layers of machinery”.

51 Max Brod, “Konzert Francis Aranyi,” Prager Tagblatt, February 16, 1927, 6. The remark is on the performance of the Bartók’s Allegro barbaro.

52 Max Brod, “Knut Hamsun in Musik gesetzt,” Prager Tagblatt, October 21, 1927, 6.53 Max Brod, “Urauff ührungen in Konzertsaal,” Prager Tagblatt, February 26, 1929, 6.54 Max Brod, “Prager Publikum!,” Prager Tagblatt, November 16, 1924, 6.55 Max Brod, “Aus dem tschechischen Künstleben,” Prager Tagblatt, May 14, 1924, 7.56 Brod several times used the notion of “vivid cultural element” (lebendigers Kulturelement), most

notably in 1928 in his reviews concerning one-act plays Life is Short (La vida breve) by de Falla and The Tsar Has his Photograph Taken’ (Der Zar lässt sich photographieren) by Kurt Weill. Cf. Max Brod, “Zwei moderne kleine Oper.” Prager Tagblatt, November 11, 1928, 8.

57 Max Brod, “Hindemith spielt auf,” Prager Tagblatt, November 3, 1929, 8.

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* * *

According to the contemporary academic classifi cations of genres and trends in the music of the 20th century, Brod is a neoclassicist with a positive attitude to all types of stylization including folklore, because he openly admired such composers as Arthur Honegger, Francis Poulenc, Albert Roussel, Hans Krása or Bohuslav Martinů58 and wrote enthusiastic sketch on Ravel’s Bolero (Brod regarded that work as a masterpiece of natural simplicity whose musical language is so elementary that almost “a mystery”).59 However, he accepted those avant-garde innovations to music that somehow referred to jazz, popular music or the classical genres and techniques – for Brod’s they all contributed to modern folk music, which is refl ected in his articles. Perhaps the best exemplifi cations of that peculiar opinion are Brod’s reviews of the two annual concerts dedicated to German composers from Prague. Those concerts were organized by the periodical Auftakt in 1929 and involved the works of such composers as Fidelio Finke, Victor Ullman, Ernst Křenek, Carl Wiener and Erwin Schulhoff 60 – the last one was particularly praised by Brod.61 I would also stress the fact that in his review on the Prokofi ev’s performance in The Czech Philharmonic House (1932) Brod compared Stravinsky and Prokofi ev only to regard the former as “more courageous” (kühnere) “summoner of all tradition” ([derjenige] der Alle Tradition bricht). On the other hand, Brod esteemed Prokofi ev’s “deeply personal” (allerpersönlich) and often ”mysterious” (geheimnisvoll) creativity.62 In the 1930s Brod often made similar comments on the music by various Czech composers, especially on Vítězslav Novák whose Herbst-Symphonie he praised for joining the modern technique with the romantic content.63 Even Alois Hába was granted absolution, despite the fact that his music was impenitently modern. In his case Brod found an excuse that Hába did not compose64 “as mathematicians do” but with a visible care for melody and emotional expression.65 All the above mentioned examples well refl ect the musical hierarchy from Brod’s perspective.

58 E.g. Max Brod, “Bühne und Kunst. Konzerte,” Prager Tagblatt, April 22, 1931, 6 (the article regards the works by, among others, Debussy, Honegger, Roussel and Martinu; idem, „Die Erde is des Herrn,“ Prager Tagblatt, March 11, 1932, 6 (the article regards the oratory by Hans Krása); idem, “Urauff ührung,” Pager Tagblatt, March 18, 1932, 5 (the article regards e.g. the double sonata by F. Poulenc).

59 Max Brod, “Bolero,” Prager Tagblatt, May 25, 1920, 6.60 Max Brod, “Auftakt-Konzert,” Prager Tagblatt, March 10, 1929, 7; idem, “Auftakt-Konzert,” Prager

Tagblatt, November 19, 1929, 7.61 Max Brod, “Max Brod, Erwin Schulhoff s Mondpantomime,” Prager Tagblatt, April 8, 1932, 6.62 Max Brod, “Konzert Prokofi ev,” Prager Tagblatt, January 13, 1932, 5.63 Max Brod, “Vítězslav Novák ‘Herbst-Symphonie’,” Prager Tagblatt, December 20, 1934, 6.64 I am referring to a quarter-tone method of composition.65 Max Brod, “Orchesterkonzert,” Prager Tagblatt, April 10, 1936, 6. Przedmiotem oceny była uwertura

do opery Háby Nowa ziemia (Neue Erde).

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Since the early 1930s Brod has started using new and crucial term: kitsch. The fi rst work he labeled as kitsch was the opera The Dead Eyes (Die toten Augen) by Eugen d’Albert whom he disliked. Brod reproached the composer with using “secondhand eff ects”.66 The notion of kitsch was adopted by the critic during his contacts with the intellectual circles connected with the Viennese periodical Musikblätter des Anbruch (e.g., Theodor Wiesengrund Adorno) that fi ercely opposed all trivial art considering it as a “fetish” of the petty-bourgeois consumer culture. Apart from kitsch, around the same time Brod has begun using other derogatory terms with respect to the musical trends he disliked. One of them was radical musical avant-garde. Such remarks as “sharp, wild manner” (scharfe wilde Manier) or “crude fi ghting methods [of the supporters – M. J.] of the modern music” (“rude Kampfmethoden der modernen Musik”) refl ect cooler and cooler attitude of Brod towards the radical musical experiments and are often contrasted with the new compositions somehow rooted in a tradition e.g., neoclassical ballets by Vítězslav Novák.67 In Brod’s repertoire of critical invectives “snobbism”68 has played a prominent role, too. It has been a fl exible epithet to make caustic remarks on modern manner in concert music and on jazz music, the latter being more and more popular in Prague in the beginning of the third decade of the 20th century. For instance, Brod was disgusted by the perfor-mance of the Jack Hylton Band – an American jazz orchestra very popular in Prague in the interwar era. He ironically suggested that that “snobbish” band did not perform but rather manufactured music whereas its audience consisted of “businesslike people” (sachliche Menschen); it is quite easy to guess the origins of those Brod’s punch lines.69

In his somewhat earlier review of the works by Erwin Schulhoff and Oswald Chlubna (the last one, a Janáček’s apprentice, is hardly known today) Brod compared the Moravian land to “the island upon the sea of leveling internationality” (nivelierende Internationalität),70 because he considered national schools as a proper remedy for “the cold modernism”71 using unifi ed musical language. Brod highly valued the national music for its communicativeness and ability to infl uence many people due to the retention of the traditional elements. “In the case of all modern operas one is vexed with one question: what an ordinary man can understand of it? Can he remember any of this?” – it is a gist of Brod’s review of the new opera by Hans Krása (1933).72

66 Max Brod, “Die toten Augen,” Prager Tagblatt, February 5, 1930, 8.67 Max Brod, “Zwei Balette von Novák,” Prager Tagblatt, March 11, 1930, 7. The article regards two

ballets: Signorina Gioventina and Nikotina. 68 Max Brod, “Moderne Kammermusik,” Prager Tagblatt, March 11, 1931, 4.69 Max Brod, “Jack Hylton fabriziert Musik,” Prager Tagblatt, November 27, 1931, 7.70 Max Brod, “Tschechische Philharmonie,” Prager Tagblatt, March 21, 1930, 6.71 Max Brod, “Erstes Novák-Konzert,” Prager Tagblatt, November 20, 1930, 6.72 „Bei modernen Opern wird man immer wieder gefragt: versteht der Laie etwas davon? Bleibt eine

Melodie im Ohr haften?“ Max Brod, “Krása ‘Verlobung im Traum’‚” Prager Tagblatt, May 20, 1930, 5. Of course that opera met Brod‘s requirements with regard to the communicativeness of musical language.

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Brod had a high regard for the national music because of the obvious ideological rea-sons. He was a Zionist and democrat (as the whole editorial staff of the Prager Tagblatt). Therefore, he paid close and kind attention to all the deeds of the Prague musical commu-nity. Aside from the regular reviews of the performances played and staged by the Czech Philharmonic he commemorated the 50th anniversary of the Czech National Theatre in Prague,73 wrote the review of the performance of Libuše by Smetana (staged on the same occasion).74 Another important paper by Brod regarded the concert dedicated to Czech and German composers that was performed in 1933 in the theater D34 thanks to the ef-forts of its owner Emil František Burian, a playwright associated with the communism.75 Among Brod’s later articles about Smetana one should mention the review of the fi rst premiere of Smetana’s opera Two Widows staged in the Czech language in the National Theatre in 1934: Brod summarized that review with an almost Buber’s remark on the “holy” (heilig) content of the work.

Brod’s stance on some artists sympathizing with communism (e.g., Weill or Burian) was positive, although he has never openly referred to their political views and used to describe their works through his own critical fi lter. In other words, he was interested in fi nding in those works the naturalness and simplicity enabling them for good social in-teraction. It is exactly the case of the play Lidovy Král by Burian containing the stylized versions of the secular songs from the Middle Ages.76 Shortly before the Second World War Brod breached one of the biggest taboos for a professional music critic – he has be-come a supporter of popular musical hits and started to praise them for their authenticity. One of his last columns published in the Prager Tagblatt is a story of musical hits in the interwar Prague: for Brod the particular songs symbolized the particular years in his life.77

Despite his growing aversion to atonality and too radical musical experiments (shared with the entire editorial staff of the Prager Tagblatt) Brod has never changed his opin-ion about the importance of Schönberg’s contribution to music. In the autumn 1930 Schönberg visited Prague and gave a lecture concerning the idea of the new music.78 In response to that lecture Brod penned a review in which he once again stressed that in his way to the truth Schönberg was accompanied by the faith and love.79 However, he remained skeptical with respect to the practical application of the Schönberg’s theory: for Brod many works by Schönberg, Webern and Berg belonged to the category of intellectual „abstraction”. Berg’s Chamber Concerto (1932) pushed him to express an opinion that dodecaphonic music would never become a cornerstone of the music of the future, sharing

73 Max Brod, “Fünfzig Jahre Tschechisches Nationaltheater,” Prager Tagblatt, November 12, 1933, 8.74 Max Brod, “Festvorstellung in der Nationaltheater (Libuše),” Prager Tagblatt, November 21, 1933, 8.75 Max Brod, “Voiceband – Fürnberg – Süsskind,” Prager Tagblatt, November 17, 1933, 5. 76 Max Brod, “Grosse Historie bei E. F. Burian,” Prager Tagblatt, October 26, 1938, 5.77 Max Brod, “Jahresringe der Musik,” Prager Tagblatt, October 30, 1938, 3.78 “Moderne Musik,” Prager Tagblatt, October 22, 1930.79 Max Brod, “Arnold Schönbertg doziert,” Prager Tagblatt, October 23, 1930, 6.

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the fate of the older Wagner’s theory.80 Brod was also disappointed with Hindemith’s compositions and called his Concerto for viola d’amore, performed in Prague in the fi rst months of 1931, “unromantic” (unromantisch) and “disputable” – because of the almost vexatious fabric of that piece.81

In the 1920s and 1930s Brod quite frequently referred to Janáček. The performances of his works in Prague were good pretext for such comments.82 Besides, Brod published a series of articles dedicated to Janáček in the Prager Tagblatt. One of them concerned the 70th anniversary of composer’s birth which ended in a scandal because Janáček was accidentally not invited.83 The series comprises also an enthusiastic review of the Berliner premiere of Jenufa,84 the article entitled Jenufa-Reminiszenzen,85 and an anniversary bio-graphical paper containing some supplementary glosses to Brod’s description of the music by Janáček. Among others he analyzes “the tectonic style” (tektonische Stilkunst) of the composer,86 which is a certain proof that he was acquainted with the Angewandte Musikaesthetik by Mersmann that was published at that time. Some other Brod’s literary works dedicated to Janáček were also published (partially for the fi rst time, partially as reprints) in the Viennese periodical Musikblätter des Anbruch.87

As a professional reviewer Brod regularly commented on operettas and ballets. Those comments are valuable source of his refl ections in regard to music. Generally, in the above mentioned musical genres he esteemed simplicity, naturalness and positive attitude towards folklore i.e. making bold use of folk melodies or dance rhythms. In his text about Thousand and One Nights (Tausend und eine Nacht) by Johann Strauss Brod drew a dis-tinction between the classical operetta and the modern “hit operetta” (Schlageroperette) intended to indulge bourgeois tastes. According to Brod, the presence of waltz in the old operetta stems from “its immediate bonds with the folklife”88 because waltz is a descen-dant of the folk dance called lendler; modern operetta is devoided of such bonds. Brod

80 Max Brod, “Kunst. Alban Bergs Kammerkonzert,” Prager Tagblatt, February 3, 1932, 7.81 Max Brod, “III Philharmonisches Konzert,” Prager Tagblatt, January 23, 1931, 8.82 Np. Max Brod, “Moderne Kammermusik [the review of the wing quintet that performed a juvenile

suite of Janáček (entitled ‘Jugend’)],” Prager Tagblatt, March 11, 1931, 4.83 Max Brod, “Bühne und Kunst,” Prager Tagblatt, January 19, 1924, 5.84 Max Brod, “Janáček’s ‘Jenufa’ an der Berliner Staatsoper,” Prager Tagblatt, March 16, 1924, 2.85 Max Brod, “Leoš Janáček – 70 Jahre alt,” Prager Tagblatt, July 30, 1924, 7.86 Max Brod, “Jenufa-Reminiszenzen,” Prager Tagblatt, October 27, 1926, 6; “Leoš Janáček – 70 Jahre

alt,” Prager Tagblatt, July 30, 1924, 7.87 Max Brod, “Leos Janacek’s Klavierstücke,” Musikblätter des Anbruch, 1924, 12; “Leos Janacek’s

Persöhnlichkeit,” Musikblätter des Anbruch, 1924, 237; “Jenufa-Reminiszenzen,” Musikblätter des Anbruch 1926, (special issue “Oper”); “Errinerung an Leoš Janáček,” Musikblätter des Anbruch, 1928, 233.

88 „Vorzug der älteren Operette: Sie hat eine unmittelbare Beziehung zum Volksleben”. Max Brod, “Alte Operette,” Prager Tagblatt, March 4, 1924, 3. Cf. also Max Brod, “Edle Vorkriegs-Operette (zur Neueinstudierung des <Opernbal>),” Prager Tagblatt, December 20, 1924, 6.

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depicted the waltz as “music closest to the nature” (“stärkste Naturnahe”) many times, for instance in his review of the ballet evening in the Vienna opera house (Johann Strauss music was a must on such occasion),89 and in the article commemorating the performance by Anna Pavlova whose dances to Russian music contained – at least for Brod – “some Dionysian elements” consisting in the dependence on “elementary folk art” (Elementare Volkskunst)”.90 Another example is his review of the evening by Diaghilev and his Ballets Russes where the dance performance to Borodin’s Polovian Dances “unshackled the dark orgiastic powers of the folklore” (dunkle orgiastische Kräfte des Volkstums”)91 as the dancers maintained their bonds with the spirit of the Russian culture. After the premiere of The Land of Smiles by Lehár Brod scrupulously analyzed how much “natural” is its oriental stylization.92

Brod wrote relatively few articles concerning classical music. Most of them pertain to the genre he preferred i.e. monumental vocal-instrumental works to secular or sacred texts.93 Brod’s interpretations of Mozart or Bruckner are then detailed analyzes of the relationship between the text and music conducted in order to assess if it leads to the proper mood or form of expression (the critic used to call it the issue of internal truth of the musical piece).

Apart from reviewing various composers and compositions, Brod assessed many so-loists and conductors. In that respect, he was an avid observer and his remarks on the appearance, behavior and personality of the particular musicians are vivid. He preferred, of course, charismatic artists able to enchant the audience and conjure up the mood, however, not by means of the learned tricks but rather with the pure concentration of the spiritual powers similar to the mystical trance (Brod used such comparison).94 His descriptions of the conductors and virtuosos at play often refer to the images of “suspen-sion between the heaven and earth” or “opening the gates of the higher world”. In the same context Brod sometimes openly told about the piety that elevates the souls of the listeners: metaphysical and mutual joy depicted in that manner is typical of the Chasidim.

Brod was no doubt able to objectively assess the style of performance (especially when it came to piano works as he played the piano on his own), but he favored the “emotional” (in the case of classical-romantic repertoire) or “picturesque” (in the case

89 Max Brod, “Das Wiener Staatsopernballett in Prag,” Prager Tagblatt, November 28, 1926, 9.90 Max Brod, “Anna Pavlowa,” Prager Tagblatt, February 16, 1927, 6.91 Max Brod, “Das Russische Ballett in Prag,” Prager Tagblatt, November 22, 1927, 6.92 Max Brod, “Lehar-Premiere,” Prager Tagblatt, February 25, 1930, 7.93 Max Brod, “Bruckners Messe F-Moll,” Prager Tagblatt, January 24, 1929, 6; idem, “Mozarts

Requiem,” Prager Tagblatt, March 19, 1929, 8.94 Max Brod, “Huberman-Konzert,” Prager Tagblatt, November 19, 1927, 7; idem, “Konzert

Bruno Walter,” Prager Tagblatt, March 6, 1928, 7; idem, “Konzert-Rachmaninoff,” Prager Tagblatt, December 4, 1930, 6 (the article contain another comparison between the world of music and the magical universe of the romantic literature i.e. Jean Paul and E.T.A. Hoff mann). Max Brod, “Zwei Liederabende,” Prager Tagblatt, March 27, 1928, 6.

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of impressionist repertoire) ones.95 Brod praised an English madrigal ensemble96 as well as Lore Korueli, a soloist singer who in the spring 1928 performed some long-forgotten songs from the 18th century – in both cases he underscored the professionalism and expressiveness of the artists.97

On the other hand, Brod opposed the magic of names and was merciless whenever a famous virtuoso gave a lame performance which raised undeserved applause. He se-verely criticized the Prague audience for “clapping their hands with delight after [Eugen d’Albert] deformed so many of the fi ne works of the masters”.98 Brod’s unbiased critical attitude towards the performance of music is visible in his reviews. The exemplifi cations of that are his refl ections on a perfect opera conductor (written on the occasion of Georg Szell’s visit to Prague before his employment in the German Theater)99 or the remarks on Wilhelm Furtwängler. Reviewing the latter, Brod made a distinction between the “aes-thetic” (“waving their hands as a magician”) and “eff ective” (coping with the orchestra) conductors.100 He also penned a review of Arturo Toscanini’s performance in Prague.101

In the 1920s Brod postponed his attempts to fi nd Jewish elements in music, most prob-ably due to the growing anti-Semitism in Europe. However, he has never lost his interest in Jewish music as such. For instance, in 1928 the Jewish troupe Habimah from Moscow performed in Prague putting up Dybbuk, The Golem and The Eternal Jew. These plays were well-known and popular among the Central-European audience, but the Habimah’s performance was modern and inspired with the methods by Konstantin Stanislavsky. Therefore, the musical setting was rich and involved genuine Jewish songs and dances accompanied by the orchestra. The plot included the reconstructions of religious rituals and ceremonies of the Carpathian Jews e.g., the wedding. Brod was, naturally, enraptured with the quality and scope of the reconstruction of the folk music that allowed for ren-dering its form and the very specifi c passionate subtones. He call it “an absolute natural product” (absolut Naturwar) and stressed the fact that Habimah used the Sprechstimme,

 95 Max Brod, “Konzert Ignaz Friedman,” Prager Tagblatt, October 10, 1926, 10; idem, Max Brod, “Klavierabend Alice Herz,” Prager Tagblatt, March 7, 1928, 6, idem, “Konzert Gieseking,” Prager Tagblatt, February 7, 1930, 7; idem, “Konzert-Rachmaninoff ,” Prager Tagblatt, December 4, 1930, 6; idem, “Klavier mit Sordine [the review of the recital of Walter Gieseking],” Prager Tagblatt, February 13, 1931, 6, idem, “Konzert Friedmans,” Prager Tagblatt, February 27, 1931, 6; idem, “Konzert Horowitz,” Prager Tagblatt, October 11, 1931, 7; idem, “Konzert Huberman,” Prager Tagblatt, November 25, 1931, 7.

 96 Max Brod, “Madrigal-Abend,” Prager Tagblatt, April 10, 1929, 6. 97 Max Brod, “Zwei Liederabende,” Prager Tagblatt, March 27, 1928, 6. 98 “[das Publikum] applaudierte begeistert den Deformationen erhabener Meisterwerke“. Max Brod,

“Konzert Eugen d’Albert,” Prager Tagblatt, March 4, 1926, 6. 99 Max Brod, “Gastdirigent Georg Szell,” Prager Tagblatt, May 14, 1929, 8.100 Max Brod, “Konzert Furtwängler,” Prager Tagblatt, April 23, 1931, 6.101 Max Brod, “En Genie der Genauigkeit,” Prager Tagblatt, May 25, 1930, 6.

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Schönberg’s modern technique of singing.102 Brod’s perception of the artists of Jewish origin e.g., Krása, Zemlinsky or Huberman was very specifi c and based on looking in their works and personalities those features he considered deeply Jewish – religiousness, piety and ability to be delighted with God’s world and to treat the music as a message from the “eternity”.

In the light of all the mentioned examples Brod seems to be a typical subjective critic who in the fi rst place remains a writer and subsequently uses his artistic self as a highly personal fi lter for the gathered information and inspiration. Brod received a professional musical education and knew the arcana of the composition and performance very well, yet his reviews and remarks were deliberately biased or – to be more precise – intended to show his own interests and opinions regarding the art. Brod’s musical criticism is deeply embedded in the great discourses of the interwar era and intertwines the purely musical discussion with the existential, sociological and anthropological issues such as the condi-tion of the contemporary man, the tradition and future of the Europe and entire world, or Zionism. Being one of German-speaking supporters of the new music, Brod consid-ered the changes taking place within it as a necessary and inevitable process – just like Adorno and other intellectualists connected with the Musikblätter des Anbruch. However, in the course of time he has become a “moderate conservative”, which was hardly strange (even in German-speaking circles). As such, he couldn’t abstain from taking his stance in the fundamental discussion on the hierarchy of the trends in the modern music, which included such issues as the boundaries of musical experiment, the mutual relationship between the avant-garde and conservatism, between the nationality and “internationalism” and between the instrumental music and opera. In that discussion Brod opposed to those who wanted to cut the bonds between the new music and the tradition. His arguments in favor of the return to “normality” (in the last years of his employment in the Prager Tagblatt Brod used to give some examples of the young German composers as a proof that such process had already been completed) in the 1930s were beyond the standard critical remarks. On the other hand, in his comments Brod frequently used the words that had been expelled from the professional music criticism long before his birth, e.g., “Wunder” (miracle, wonder), “holiness” or “eternity”. This time, they were intended to direct the attention of the readers to the metaphysical superstructure of the art. Brod used to describe Mahler, Schönberg, Kafka and those artists he considered as their conscious successors in a very specifi c way – he has made no distinction between the value of the art and its moral or religious signifi cance. Brod was fi rst fascinated with Martin Buber and his teachings. As a result, he started to show the “human nature” of his musical or literary idols as something stemming from the strength of their personality and able to open the metaphysical horizon of the art by virtue of “simple” means. The word “simple” should be understood according to the Buber’s story The Wise and the Simple. Its point tells the reader that sometimes one should open to the bless of the silliness. Max Brod certainly

102 Max Brod, “Die Moskauer ‘Habimah’,” Prager Tagblatt, February 25, 1928, 7; idem, “Der Golem,” Prager Tagblatt, February 26, 1928, 7.

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took that path. Doing this, he turned out to be brave enough to cross the boundaries of the traditional musical criticism.

Translation: Piotr Plichta

Max Brod as a Music Critic

Abstract

The article is devoted to the presentation and interpretation of critical-musical works of Max Brod, Czech-born German-Israeli writer, composer and librettist, best known as a monographer of Franz Kafka. On the basis of the press articles (published, inter alia, in German-speaking daily “Prager Tagblatt”), the author analyzes and systematizes Brod’s views on musical art. Signifi cantly, in the center of the critic’s interest were found to be such composers as Leoš Janáček, Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schönberg. The press arti-cles concerning Jewish music, more specifi cally – the “Jewish element” (“Jewishness”) in music are discussed in detail. The author also attempts to answer whether the Zionist element of Max Brod’s worldview could have aff ected his professional evaluation of musi-cal pieces. At the end of the article critical-musical skills of Max Brod are subjected to the technical analysis, and his artistic views (particularly on Neue Musik) are placed in a wider context of the thought of the era.

Max Brod jako hudební kritik

Abstrakt

Studie představuje a interpretuje hudebně kritické texty Maxe Broda; spisovatele německo-židovského původu narozeného v Čechách, zároveň skladatele a libretisty, jenž proslul péčí o odkaz Franze Kafky. Na základě studia novinových článků (publikovaných mimo jiné v německojazyčném periodiku Prager Tagblatt) autor analyzuje a systematizuje Brodův náhled na hudební umění. V centru pozornosti Maxe Broda byli skladatelé jako Leoš Janáček, Gustav Mahler a Arnold Schönberg. Novinové články, jež se zabývají židovskou hudbou, respektive „židovskými elementy“ v hudbě, jsou pojednány zvláště podrobně. Autor věnuje pozornost rovněž otázce, do jaké míry mohl Brodův sionistický světonázor ovlivnit jeho kritickou refl exi hudebních děl. Závěr studie je věnován technické analýze hudebně kritických schopností Maxe Broda. Jeho vnímání umění (zvláště tzv. Nové hudby) je probíráno v širším historickém kontextu.

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Keywords

Max Brod; Leoš Janáček; Gustav Mahler; Arnold Schönberg; Czech musical culture of the interwar period; Jewish music; Zionism in music; musical criticism.

Klíčová slova

Max Brod; Leoš Janáček; Gustav Mahler; Arnold Schönberg; česká hudební kultura v meziválné době; židovská hudba; sionismus v hudbě; hudební kritika.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Sibelius at the Crossroads: Old Paths Leading to New Creative Departures in His Second Symphony

(1901/02)

Nors S. Josephson

Sibelius’ Second Symphony is a central milestone in his entire compositional output. Many commentators (including Haas1

and Murtomäki2) have stressed Sibelius’ great indebtedness to Beethoven and Brahms, notably his use of axial major thirds that often lead to whole-tone scalar confi gurations. The latter derivations are familiar from classi-cal development sections and later Russian composers such as Borodin and Musorgskij.

Sibelius’ emphasis on tonal unity is already present in his earliest drafts for the Second Symphony, which highlight the keys of C and (its dominant) G:

1 David Haas, „Sibelius’s Second Symphony and the Legacy of Symphonic Lyricism,“ in The Sibelius Campanion, ed. Glenda D. Goss (Westport: Greenwood, 1996), 81–82.

2 Veijo Murtomäki, Symphonic Unity: The Development of Formal Thinking in the Symphonies of Sibelius (Helsinki: Universitatis Helsingiensis, 1993), 48–52. Similar sentiments are expressed by James Burnett in The Music of Jean Sibelius (London: Associated University Presses, 1983), 58–59 and Marc Vignal in his Jean Sibelius (Paris: Fayard, 2004), 321.

102

Table I: Initial emphasis on keys of C- and G-major in Sibelius’ Second Symphony3

Measures offi nal version

Sketch draft in Helsinki University Library (HUL)3 Year ac-cording to Kilpeläinen’scatalogue3

Key of sketch

I Allegretto9–14 in D, Oboe

0818 [1]/3, line 11 (part of projected Kinderstücke, possibly quoting the German folk songEs klappert die Mühle am rauschenden Bach)

1897–1898 C

9–14 1510/5, line 1 1899–1900 F (!)9–14 1514/2, line 1 1899–1901 C9–14 0146 [2], line 5 C9–14 1549/2, line 11 1901 C

This last-listed source is evidently a later and more fully developed draft:

II Tempo Andante, ma rubato – Andante sostenuto40–55in d, Bassoons

Rapallo sketch in 0145, line 3–6, subtitled Ballettoin minore. Serenata dell’ estero, with subsequentreferences to Don Juan and death in 0145/2

1901(Feb. 11)

c

98–101 in F#, strings

Christus sketch 1537/2, in 3/4 meter 1900–1901 C

III Scherzo: Vivacissimo – Trio: Lento e soave

BeginningScherzo in B 0147 [1] G

BeginningTrio in G 1548/3, line 1 1901 C

IV Finale: Allegro moderato240f.+248f.in B 1549 [2], line 5 1901 A (C: VI, as

later B is D: VI)

3 Kari Kilpeläinen, The Jean Sibelius Musical Manuscripts at Helsinki University Library: A Complete Catalogue (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1991).

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As already mentioned, Sibelius’ later drafts for his Second Symphony more consistently stress the axial major third relationships of D–F#/G –B –D, a procedure that is reminis-cent of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony (1812; keys of A/a–C/c#–F) and Brahms’ Second Symphony (1877; keys of D–B –F#). Similar major third hierarchies are later encountered in the music of Béla Bartók, a composer admired by Sibelius, for instance in the Concerto for Orchestra (1943; C#–F–A) and the Viola Concerto (1945; A–F–C/C#). Let us sum-marize these major third hierarchies in Table II:

Table II: Axial major thirds in Sibelius’ later drafts for his Second SymphonyD-major tonic area F#/G∫ episodes B∫-major spheres

I, 1–48I, 216–219 (end of development)

I, 224–228 G∫, end of developmentI, 233–288

I, 293–300 F#

I, 318–333

II, 1–91 dII, 98–112 Christus, F#

II, 112–132 f#II, 179–207 d, ChristusII, 208–216 DII, 221–239 d

III, 1–27III, 82–142

III, 146–158 G∫ TrioIII, 161–226III, 245–293

III, 293–297 G∫ Trio

IV, 1–16 DIV, 17–20 f#

IV, 25–65 DIV, 79–100 f#IV, 101–130 F#

IV, 197–212 DIV, 213–216 f#

IV, 221–239 DIV, 240–262

IV, 273–334 dIV, 335–373 D

It will be noted that the initial F#-major/f#-minor spheres (or D:III/iii) in movements II and IV are often associated with static, ostinato-like formal structures, whereas the B areas in I, III and IV are typically more developmental in nature. B also tends to resolve downwardly to A via its enharmonic equivalent, A#, as seen in F#-major (with A#) pro-gressing to F#-minor (with upper An) between movements I, II and IV.

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In addition, Sibelius is careful – as noted earlier – to link these three tertial spheres with major second/whole-tone transitions in the style of Classical period development sections. (Compare, for instance, Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony: I and Beethoven’s First Symphony: I, with their profiled whole-tone progressions around E –f–g–a back to C-tonic).4 Already Sibelius’ fi rst movement’s development section features a climactic closing section in mm. 208–262 on d (with upper b b3, c1

and g 1)–B (with upper a )–G (with upper e1)/F#–E–D.5 Here the intervening whole-tone steps D–C–B –A –G –E–D are present in the upper violin harmony notes. Sibelius also carefully introduces this cli-mactic progression D–C–B with several complementary, introductory whole-tone bass passages on D–E–F# in mm. 1–55. This initial linear ascent is then continued via the pitches d1–E–F#–(G)–G# in mm. 48–58 and C–D–E in mm.100–102. Moreover, the beginning of the development also highlights the bass A (echoing its enharmonic cousin G# from 57–58) in 142–143 and the related c-minor (compare the preceding 100–101!) in 1521+156–160 before once again settling down on D’s central tritone of G# in 164–172. The intervening mm. 170–208 likewise outline analogous whole-tone progressions on g# (170)/a (1821, bassoon)–a# (173)/b (1831, clarinet)–c (1811, viola; 1841, bassoon and 1932, violoncello)–d (1944, timpani).

A similar structural whole-tone scaff old on D–C–B –A –G /F# –A –B is then re-peated in cyclical fashion in the third movement’s Scherzo, mm. 94–145+146–161 (:Trio and varied reprise of Scherzo in 159f.). Moreover, the identical line of D–C–B recurs in the Finale’s Coda, mm. 340–348: a passage initially sketched as an orchestral Intrada in HUL 1539/3, lines 3–4, where the pitch C is still tonally harmonized with a V7

chord on D.6 Moreover, the clear tonal close on D-major in this sketch is at sharp variance with the modal lines on D–C–B of the fi nal version.

Musical example 1: Sketched Intrada for Finale, mm. 340–348 from HUL 1539/3, lines 3–4

32

32 .

.

The major third interval is also important in a motivic sense in Sibelius’ Second Symphony. The opening theme group in the fi rst movement, mm. 1–32 is a case in point, since it

4 Nors S. Josephson, “Zirkelartige Progressionen in symphonischen Durchführungen der Klassik und Romantik,” Die Musik forschung 34 (1981): 292–300, especially 294–295.

5 Lionel Pike, Beethoven, Sibelius and the “Profound Logic” (London: Faber and Faber, 1978), 92, cited in Vignal, p. 325.

6 This D-major Intrada was also apparently originally intended as in introductory episode for the developmental transition in (Finale) 127f. over the Finale’s main theme, d–e–f#–c#–d–e etc. See HUL 0150 [1], lines 1–2.

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outlines two third aggregates, d–f#–a and e–g.7 This transposition on the scalar degrees I–ii was much used in the symphonic literature of the 19th

century; one is especially remind-ed of the opening of Beethoven’s First Symphony (1800) and Brahms’ Second Symphony (1877). Similar third confi gurations occur at the outset of the second (slow) movement (d–f and e–g) and the beginning of the Finale (d2–f#2

oscillating with c#2–e). The fi nal glorious trumpet apotheosis at the close of the Finale’s Coda, mm. 356–373 amalgam-ates these tertial cells into a stirring climax on d2–e2–f#2–g2

that ultimately reaches the high peak a2, or D’s dominant. This passage has already been adumbrated at the end of the fi rst movement’s development, mm.257–259, and again highlighting the trumpets!8

Musical example 2: Trumpet climaxes in I (257–259) and IV (356–364)

Sibelius provides for thematic contrast in his Second Symphony by means of a family of chromatically oscillating motives that are at times indebted to earlier German Romantic composers, notably Bruckner and Wagner.9 In particular, four brief thematic gestures from Bruckner’s Third Symphony (composed in 1873 and revised in 1877 and 1890) and Wagner’s Götterdämmerung (namely, Siegfried’s Funeral March from Act III, completed in 1874) appear to have subliminally inspired Sibelius’s opening bassoon theme of his second movement (mm.40–55), the Tutti outbursts10 in II, 80–97, the lyrically contrasting Christus subject (mm. 98–105) in the same slow movement plus the opening of the Scherzo:

 7 On the concentrated tonal-motivic integration and melodic connections in the fi rst movement’s mm.1–262, see Ilkka Oramo’s detailed analysis in his essay “Motiivi ja muoto Sibeliuksen toisessa Sinfoniassa,” Musiikki 8 (1978): 1–27.

 8 Haas, “Sibelius’s Second Symphony,” 91 also views these two passages as interrelated and believes that the end of I’s development foreshadows the Finale’s Coda-apotheosis (which Sibelius fi rst improvised in June, 1899 at the home of Gallén-Kallela; see Vignal, Jean Sibelius, 278).

9 Murtomäki, Symphonic Unity, 34 believes that Sibelius’ music literally overfl ows with Wagnerisms, such as the Tristan chord, although in his old age the Finnish master frequently denigrated the Ger-man composer.

10 Haas, “Sibelius’s Second Symphony,” 85 describes Sibelius’ Tutti in this passage as featuring “Bruck-nerian registral shifts”. In his book, Jean Sibelius: Progressive Techniques in the Symphonies and Tone-Poems (New York: Garland Publishing, 1989), 12 Tim Howell stresses that the concept of three medial keys is also likely a Bruckner infl uence.

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Musical example 3: Brucknerian and Wagnerian creative stimuli for Sibelius’ Second Symphony

(repeated sequentially[a fourth higher] in 83–84)

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c) Wagner, Siegfried’s Funeral March from Götterdämmerung: III, 987–988

Signifi cantly, the apparent Wagner and Bruckner quotations in the last three examples all begin with minor seconds (such as d1–eb1

in Götterdämmerung) followed by major seconds; the reverse is true in Example 3d, but Sibelius turns Bruckner’s germ cell into the expected minor-major second sequence. We know that Sibelius had heard Bruckner’s Third Symphony in Vienna in 1890 and was much impressed by the work and its creator,

Sibelius, Final form of Christus theme from Second Symphony: II, 98–100

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whom he considered to be the greatest living composer.11 A similar contemporary scherzo – also in d-minor like Bruckner’s – is encountered in the third Furiant movement of Dvořák’s Sixth Symphony (1880), where the main theme reads, c#3–d3–c#3–d3–c#3–d3–e3–d3–c#3–d3. Here it should be mentioned that both compositions were conducted during this time-period by the Viennese conductor Hans Richter.

Sibelius must have been partial to these alternating minor/major seconds, because he also employs them as ornamental turns in the fi rst three movements (for example, I, 85–102; II, 108 and III, 147f.). More importantly, they recur in cyclical fashion as the fi nale’s elegiac second subject in mm.79–80f. and 273–274f. This haunting cantilena was apparently inspired by the suicide-death of his sister-in-law Elli Järnefeld on July 3, 1901.12

Musical example 4: Finale’s elegiac second subject in 79–80f.

Moreover, these minor second intervals also aff ected the overall tonal organization of the second movement, whose d-minor Tutti outbursts in mm. 80–97 are transposed to d’s unstable leading-tone c# in 170–173. These chromatic vacillations may also refl ect on what Sibelius himself termed the “spiritualized development” of the second movement, progressing from Don Juan’s encounter with death to the above-mentioned redemption of the Christ theme.13 In this connection it is revealing to speculate on the philosophical meaning of Sibelius’ draft in HUL 0146, which expands the Christus theme into ethe-real, redemptive D -major harmonies that may represent an original ending for the slow movement.

Musical example 5: Redemptive ending in D -major (Sibelius writes “Des dur”) for Sibelius’ slow movement in Second Symphony sketch in HUL 0146 [1], line 9–12

11 See Sibelius’ letter to his future wife Aino of December 21, 1890, partly reproduced in Vignal, Jean Sibelius 127.

12 Vignal, Jean Sibelius, 332.13 Haas, “Sibelius’s Second Symphony,” 88–90.

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Analogous D/Db vacillations are encountered in the third movement (Scherzo) between mm.72–73 (D) and 80–81 (D ).14

Similarly, HUL 0152 [1], lines 5–9 sketch some evocative, ethereal E (or D: Neapolitan bII degree) tremolos for the Finale’s Coda. Similar E shadings were origi-nally planned in HUL 0150 [1–2] for the climactic transition leading up to the reprise in m.197f.

Musical example 6: E /D vacillations in sketch for the Finale’s Coda in HUL 0152 [1], line 5–9

In conclusion, Sibelius’ Second Symphony emerges as a transitional watershed work. While his employment of cyclical third intervals and redemptive endings (such as the original D close of II, or the E Neapolitan shadings in IV’s Coda) suggest a familiarity with Beethoven, Brahms and Wagner, his usage of repeated, static ostinatos and modal structures (including Lydian-style tritones, auch as D–G#) point to later 20th-century developments. Moreover, Sibelius’ consistent drawing on linear whole-tone matrices link these tritone and major third structures to the work’s larger contrapuntal network. One is reminded of Vignal’s perceptive comment to the eff ect that the Second Symphony at once fully amalgamates the German-Austrian symphonic tradition, but also looks far ahead into the future.15

14 These minor second relationships (D–C#/D–D and D–E ) distinctly recall the analogous minor second scaff olds (E /D, D–D ) in Borodin’s First Symphony of 1867. The latter Russian symphony had been performed in Helsinki on October 15, 1896 (see Howell, Jean Sibelius: Progressive Tech-niques, 8). In addition, numerous scholars have commented on certain structural similarities between Borodin’s First Symphony and Sibelius’ First Symphony of 1899 (see summary in Vignal, Jean Sibelius, 270–271), even though Sibelius emphatically denied having known the Borodin work before com-posing his own First Symphony. More to the point is Howell’s (Jean Sibelius: Progressive Techniques, 12) assertion that the synthesis climaxes in Sibelius’ Second Symphony (such as: I’s recapitulation or IV’s Coda-epilogue) derive from Russian composers such as Tchaikovsky and Borodin.

15 Vignal, Jean Sibelius, 321.

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Sibelius at the Crossroads: Old Paths Leading to New Creative Departures in His Second Symphony (1901/02)

Abstrac t

Sibelius’ Second Symphony derives its inspiration from several third intervals that were originally also used in Brahms’ Second Symphony. These third cells are often linked via major second scalar progressions, resulting in recurring whole-tone scales, a concept al-ready employed in Classical development sections. In addition, Sibelius’ Second Symphony was also much infl uenced by Bruckner’s Third Symphony, notably the latter’s fi rst three movements. Sibelius’ sketches for the second and fourth movements also indicate that the composer toyed with the idea of transcendental codas for these sections, producing minor second harmonic relationships that may derive from Borodin’s fi rst two symphonies.

Sibelius na rozcestí: tradiční cesty, jež vedou k novým tvůrčím východiskům, na příkladu skladatelovy Symfonie č. 2 (1901/02)

Abstrakt

Sibeliova Druhá symfonie čerpá inspiraci z některých terciových intervalových struktur, které se původně objevily v Brahmsově Druhé symfonii. Tyto terciové buňky jsou propojeny prostřednictvím stupnicových postupů velkých sekund, jež ústí v celotónové stupnice – koncept, který je znám již z evolučních sekcí klasicistní hudby. Sibeliova Druhá symfonie byla do značné míry rovněž ovlivněna Brucknerovou Třetí symfonií, zejména jejími první-mi třemi větami. Sibeliovy skici druhé a čtvrté věty dále naznačují, že si zde autor zahrá-val s myšlenkou využití transcendentní kódy s výsledkem harmonických vztahů na bázi malých sekund, které mohou být odvozeny z Borodinových prvních dvou symfonií.

KeywordsSibelius; Second Symphony; structural analysis; inspirations.

Klíčová slova

Sibelius; Druhá symfonie; strukturální analýza; inspirace.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Vnímání hudby pomocí hudební nahrávky: zvuková interpretace1

Pavel Kunčar

Úvod

Zvuk je fenomén, který ve vztahu k lidem slouží k několika účelům. Prvním z nich je přenos informace. Pomocí sluchového smyslu se orientujeme ve světě a identifi kujeme předměty, které se akusticky projevují. Refl ektovat tuto skutečnost je náročné, neboť funguje na bázi instinktu, tedy nevědomé (nebo spíše předvědomé) reakce. Na základě sluchových zkušeností se do paměti ukládají zvukové modely, které pak podvědomě ap-likujeme na vše, co slyšíme. Při zaslechnutí nového, neznámého zvuku dochází k po-rovnání tohoto zvuku s již existujícími modely a na základě jejich podobnosti můžeme více či méně přesně určit původ nového zvuku. Porovnávání však není jediný proces, který na úrovni percepce probíhá.2 Z nakupených zvukových modelů vybíráme ty, které jsou si charakterem podobné, z nich můžeme extrahovat zvukovou podstatu určitého zvukového jevu (určitý charakter zvuku, například houslí). Pomocí extrapolace a kombinace pak můžeme určit původ i zcela neznámého zvukového jevu. Takto pojímaný zvuk se většinou ještě nestává samostatným estetickým objektem, je vázán na svůj zdroj, je tedy pouze jeho reálným projevem. V hudbě se však zvuk stává znakem, který zastupuje tzv. signifi káty,3 jeho význam se tedy posouvá jinam, jeho hlavním úkolem není „upozornit na svůj zdroj“. Z tohoto pohledu by se dalo říci, že úkol zvuku je druhotný, že sám o sobě nemá význam. Některé postupy v historii a současnosti artifi ciální hudby však poukazují na opak. Mám na mysli zejména používání „reálných“ zvuků v hudbě namísto tónů (např. napodobování ptačího zpěvu lze najít už v období renesance). Dnes tyto prvky pomáhají v otázce in-terpretace (např. tempa) skladeb, lze je aplikovat rovněž na sféru vážné hudby, která se

1 Tento článek vznikl v rámci projektu IGA_FF_2015_024 (Hudební kultura 1850–2015).2 Termíny recepce a percepce jsou v tomto článku převzaty od Václava Syrového. Recepce znamená

vjem, percepce označuje jeho „psychické zpracování“. Více viz Václav Syrový, Hudební akustika (Praha: AMU, 2003).

3 Sofi a Lissa, Nové studie z hudební estetiky, překlad Jindřich Brůček (Praha: Supraphon, 1982), 87.

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zabývá přetvářením zvuku pomocí elektronických prostředků. Navíc zvuky, které jsou na první pohled nehudební (zvuky strojů, ptačí zpěv, zvuky neživé přírody atd.) byly a jsou používány jako skladebné prvky místo tónů a akordů.

Vnímání hudby vždy probíhá skrze zvuk. Pod tento pojem je třeba zařadit několik článků řetězu: vznik zvuku v hudebním nástroji, přenos zvuku prostředím (koncertní síně) k posluchači a nakonec i fyziologické vnímání zvuku. Všechny tyto články ovlivňují konečnou podobu percepce. Je tedy možné o nich hovořit jako o součásti interpretace. Poslechem hudby z hudební nahrávky je řetězec obohacen o několik dalších článků. Mezi přenos zvuku prostředím a fyziologické vnímání zvuku se zařadilo zpracování zvuku (to opět v několika článcích: transformace do elektronické podoby, zpracování v této podobě a opětovná transformace do podoby akustické) a přenos novým poslechovým prostředím. Není tedy možné klást na hudební nahrávku cíl, aby pouze zprostředkovala reálnou hu-dební produkci bez minimálního zásahu.4

V tomto dílčím výzkumu se zaměříme na otázku, zda je možné hovořit o zvuku, jako nositeli hudební informace v estetických kategoriích, dále pak jestli a jak ovlivňuje jeho zpracování vnímání hudebního díla. Pro účely výzkumu musíme všeobecný „zvuk“ přiblížit, zúžit. Zvuk nahrávky chápeme jako výsledek procesu snímání a zpracování přenosového média hudby – akustických vln. Zajímá nás zvuk, jako přenosové médium hudby. Nezaměřujeme se na objekt, na který zvuk svým významem poukazuje.

Cíle výzkumu

Protože je zvuk prostředkem k vnímání hudebního díla, je nutné se zamyslet nad jeho účely, parametry a cíli jeho zpracování. Pokud probíhá zpracování něčeho, co nese umělecké dílo, můžeme o tom také mluvit v estetických kategoriích? Nebo se jedná jen o „řemeslné“ zpracování, jehož největší devízou je minimální zásah a nepoznatelný vliv?Provedený dílčí výzkum se zaměřuje na tyto otázky: 1. Lze z estetického vnímání hudby oddělit samostatné estetické vnímání zvuku? Jinými

slovy, lze zvuk samotný označit jako krásný bez návaznosti na hudbu?2. Jakým způsobem ovlivňuje zpracování a přetváření zvuku přenos hudební informace?

Teoretická východiska

O pohledu na zvuk z estetického hlediska hovoří Václav Syrový v publikaci Hudební zvuk.5 Rozděluje pohled do dvou oblastí. Fyzikální kvalita zvuku je základní oblast, kterou posluchač u zvuku vnímá. Pokud je jí dosaženo, umožňuje identifi kaci původu zvuku a splňuje základní parametry, které jsou od zvukového přenosu očekávány, zejména

4 Viz např. Ladislav Šíp Nahrávání a reprodukovaná hudba (Praha: SHV, 1961), 20–27.5 Václav Syrový, Hudební zvuk (Praha: AMU, 2014), 77–80.

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nerušený vhled do přenášené informace. Oblast fyzikální kvality pak volně přechází do oblasti estetické kvality. Přechod mezi těmito oblastmi není jednoznačný, do velké míry záleží i na úhlu pohledu. Syrový však hovoří o kvalitě zvuku ve smyslu kvality tónu i kvality zvukového zpracování. V této práci se chceme věnovat pouze oblasti zpracování zvuku, samotnou kvalitu tónu (fyzikální i estetickou) tedy ponechme stranou.

V souvislosti s hudebním dílem zmiňuje zvukový přenos Sofi a Lissa v publikaci Nové studie z hudební estetiky.6 V kapitole O takzvaném rozumění hudbě popisuje působení zprostředkujících článků mezi „dílem a příjemcem – adresátem, jimiž musí toto dílo procházet. U každého ze zprostředkujících článků je možná interpretace, a tudíž i deformace.“7 Jedním z takových článků je i zvuková podoba hudební nahrávky.

Metoda

Výzkum byl zaměřen na poznatky z praxe, jelikož pouhá teoretická refl exe těžko odpovídá na otázky, které se týkají estetického vnímání. Pro výzkum tedy byla použita metoda tzv. zakotvené teorie (Grounded Theory). Jde o způsob kvalitativního výzkumu, který je často používán v psychologii a sociologii.8 Kvalitativní výzkum (na rozdíl od kvantitativního – statistického) zkoumá, jak jednotlivec nebo skupina osob chápe a interpretuje různé fenomény. Zakotvená teorie je specifi ckou metodou takového výzkumu, v níž se zkoumaný problém představuje z různých stran a na základě systému kódování jednotlivých aspektů je vytvořena konečná teorie. Ta je založena na základě četnosti a důležitosti, s níž se jed-notlivé aspekty problémů vynořují ve zkoumané oblasti, v neposlední řadě také na základě jejich vzájemného vztahu. Jde tedy o metodu induktivní, kdy se z daného objemu dat vytvoří teorie, která je pro něj zpětně platná.

V tomto výzkumu bylo osloveno pět osob, které se profesně zabývají prací se zvukem. Dva zvukoví mistři – Tomáš Zikmund a Aleš Dvořák, dva hudební režiséři – Jaroslav Rybář a Igor Tausinger a jeden hudební skladatel – Vít Zouhar. Se všemi respondenty byl veden rozhovor v trvání cca 90 minut, rozhovor byl nahráván a poté přepsán do písemné formy.9 Otázky byly připravené předem, respondenti je neznali, nicméně se rozhovor nedržel striktně schématu otázek, byl veden volně. Pokud respondent zmínil zajímavé téma nebo myšlenku, byla snaha ji rozvinout a získat co nejvíc informací, které vysvětlují, jak daný problém chápe respondent. Jednotlivé osoby nebudeme ve výsledcích rozlišovat. Je třeba zmínit, že některé odlišné odpovědi na otázky vycházely právě z profesního zakotvení, nicméně se jednalo o nedůležité výroky.

6 Viz pozn. č. 2.7 Tamtéž, s. 91.8 Anselm Strauss, Juliet Corbin, Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory procedures and tech-

niques (Thousand Oaks, CA, US: Sage Publications, Inc., 1990).9 Rozhovory se všemi respondenty probíhaly na podzim 2016 a jednotlivé výroky z rozhovorů, které

sloužily pro výzkum, jsou uvedeny v příloze.

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Témata se týkala výhradně práce se zvukem v oblasti artifi ciální hudby, ve které se respondenti profesně pohybují. Základním předpokladem je, že všechny odpovědi jsou chápány jako pravdivé v tom smyslu, že vyjadřují porozumění tématu danou osobou. Odpovědi nejsou hodnoceny co do pravdivosti nebo dokazatelnosti, jsou z nich pouze extrahovány jednotlivé výroky a ty jsou pak kategorizovány. Teorie, která z takového výz-kumu vznikne, je přísně vědecky platná pouze pro danou skupinu osob, myslím však, že díky výběru respondentů poskytuje dobrý základní vhled do problematiky a může vyjasnit odpovědi na některé otázky. Přepisy rozhovorů byly následně analyzovány, byly z nich extrahovány výroky, které jsou podstatné pro dané téma výzkumu a ty byly rozděleny do několika kategorií. Seznam výroků a jejich rozdělení do kategorií je v příloze článku.

Vyhodnocení rozhovorů

Jako první se nabízí otázka, zda je možné vůbec chápat krásu zvuku odděleně od krásy hudby. O tomto problému hovoří množství výroků respondentů. Z jejich vyjádření lze vyčíst, že hudba a zvuk tvoří jeden nerozlučitelný celek (výroky 5, 40, 86),10 v jeho rámci však je možné vnímat odděleně hudbu a odděleně vlastnosti zvuku. Ne přímo, spíše skrze negativní proces – popis negativně vnímaných vlastností zvuku. Když ztvárnění zvuku nedosáhne potřebné řemeslné kvality, respektive obsahuje rušivé elementy (zejména při poslechu hudby na koncertě na špatném poslechovém místě), kvalita výsledného zážitku může být u některých respondentů ovlivněna (40, 52, 79). Ztrácí schopnost vnímat hudbu plně a zážitek je tak negativně ovlivněn. U jiných osob zase jejich profesní schopnosti umožní se přes nedokonalé zvukové ztvárnění přenést a soustředit se pouze na vnímání hudby (výroky 4, 13, 26). Nicméně všichni respondenti jsou schopni odlišit nedokonalý zvukový přenos od vnímané hudby. Na otázku, zda jsou schopni najít v samotném zvuku estetické „zalíbení“, však byly odpovědi nejednoznačné, zdá se, že otázka nebyla dobře pochopena (např. výrok 55). Z toho lze usuzovat, že samotný zvuk nemá esteticky tak velký význam jako hudba a není v případě přenosu hudby esteticky samonosný. Jiný případ nastává u zvuku, který je sám o sobě hudebním objektem (výrok 85), tato oblast hudby však není předmětem tohoto výzkumu a je nutné pečlivě odlišovat zvuk, jehož hlavním účelem je přenos hudby a zvuk, který je sám o sobě hudebním objektem (viz úvod). V oblasti zvuku – hudebního objektu ztrácí ona řemeslná kvalita de facto význam, protože každým, i pokřiveným zpracováním vyjadřuje zvukový objekt myšlenku.

Odpověď na první otázku tedy není jednoznačná, jasné zaměření čistě na estetickou kvalitu zvuku se mezi respondenty neobjevilo. Zvuk na sebe poutá pozornost zejména při nedostatku v řemeslné kvalitě, kdy zabraňuje „nerušenému“ poslechu hudby. Výzkum ukazuje, že rozdělení estetického působení zvuku na oblast fyzikální kvality a estetické nástavby není jednoznačně a samozřejmě vnímán. Fyzikální kvalita zvuku je vnímána jako základní podmínka pro nezkreslené vnímání hudby. U několika odpovědí lze vysledovat,

10 Čísla výroků viz příloha.

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že díky profesní zdatnosti respondentů lze fyzikálně (přenosově) nekvalitní zvuk elimi-novat a tento faktor vyloučit. Naproti tomu estetická nástavba je popisována spíše jako návaznost zvuku na konkrétní hudbu, kterou přenáší. Vyjádření jsou různá, nejjasnější je výrok 47. Tvůrčí práce se zvukem je významotvorná (výrok 31). Smysl tohoto výroku je, že ztvárnění zvuku ovlivňuje význam vnímaného hudebního díla. V podobném duchu jsou i výroky 51 a 62. Tato ztvárnění posluchač nahrávky nevnímá vědomě, spíše podvědomě umocňují jeho prožitek z hudebního díla. Jasný popis, jakými prostředky k tomu dochází, zde není vysvětlen, spíše se jedná o umělecké vyjádření mistra zvuku, které není snadné teoreticky pomocí známých pojmů popsat. To ukazuje na to, že estetická nástavba zvuku je vlastně umělecký projev zvukového mistra – interpreta, který vnímá hudební sdělení autora, jeho interpretaci hudebníkem a to dále interpretuje v rovině své profese. Ovlivňuje tedy zvukové ztvárnění tak, aby odpovídalo vjemu hudebního sdělení (viz výrok 83).

Ve třech předchozích odstavcích jsme rozebírali význam fyzikální kvality. Nyní se budeme pohybovat pouze v oblasti estetické nástavby, čili nástavby nad kvalitou fyzi-kální. Vedle ojedinělých výroků 53 a 67, který předpokládá, že fyzikální kvalita zvuku pro plné vnímání hudby postačuje, se ve výzkumu objevují převážně výroky, které poukazují na to, že zpracování zvuku v rovině estetické kvality ovlivňuje celkové vyznění hudebního uměleckého díla (33, 35, 51, 87, 88). Zajímavější jsou však výroky 30, 34, 43, 60 a 62. Ty říkají, že zvuk navazuje na hudbu, že zpracování zvuku vychází z hudby a z její konkrétní interpretace. Zvukové ztvárněné je tedy reinterpretace, druhotná interpretace hudebního díla (navíc v jeho konkrétní hudební interpretaci) Protože interpretace může nabývat různých podob, ovlivňuje podobu díla a má tedy vliv na jeho vnímání posluchačem.

Z výše předloženého lze konečné vyznění hudebního díla na zvukové nahrávce chápat jako vícevrstevnou interpretaci. Vrstva zvukové interpretace následuje za vrstvou hudební interpretace.11 Jejich společným cílem je určitá podoba hudebního díla, která je předkládána posluchači. Protože hudební interpretace vychází z díla samotného a zvuková interpretace vychází z díla i z interpretace hudební, je možné vytvořit vícevrstevný model celkového vyznění díla. Pro toto chápání se jako vhodnější jeví podoba hudebního díla jako autorovy myšlenky a vnější podoby,12 kdy je myšlenka vyjádřena podobou a obě tyto pole jsou od sebe oddělitelné.

11 Hudební interpretací myslíme ztvárnění hudebního díla interpretem.12 Záměrně se zde vyhýbáme pojmům forma a obsah, jelikož tyto doznaly v soudobé estetice jiného

chápání.

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Návrh pohledu na hudební dílo s ohledem na estetiku zvuku

Následující řádky představují možnost pohledu na hudební dílo jako na metafyzickou entitu, která je pomocí materiální podoby vyjádřena v reálném světě.13 Není to jediný pohled na hudební dílo, nicméně pomocí tohoto pohledu lze vysvětlit, jak souvisí estetické chápání zvuku (zvukového zpracování) s estetickým chápáním hudby a jak je možné tyto entity oddělit.

Předpokládejme existenci umě lecké ho dí la jako sdě lení , ve které m je mož né identifi -kovat vnitřní myšlenku a vnější podobu. Tento názor vychá zí z estetické teorie Vladimí ra Solovjova, kterou nejlé pe vyjadř uje citá t: „Krá sa je ztě lesně ní m ideje“.14 Krá sa tedy vyjadř uje podstatu, ale pouze podstatu ideá lní a vyjadř uje ji skuteč ně , reá lně . Krá sa tedy není jen optický klam nebo př í zrak ideje. Ideu, neboli hodnotný způ sob bytí pak Solovjov defi nuje jako „plnou svobodu dí lč í ch č á stí v dokonalé jednotě celku“.15 Solovjov vidí krá su jako integrá lní souč á st dobra a pravdy, př ič emž krá sa je vyjá dř ení dobra ve fyzické m svě tě . Krá sa je tedy jeden z cí lů lidstva. Není ú kolem té to prá ce podrobně popisovat estetický ná hled Vladimí ra Solovjova, pro ná š ú č el je podstatná myš lenka oddě lení ideje umě lecké ho dí la a její ho vyjá dř ení v reá lné m svě tě .

U uměleckého díla je jako první zřetelná jeho vnější podoba, hmotná v př í padě vý tvarné ho umě ní a architektury, zně jí cí v př í padě hudby. V př í padě hudební ho dí la se jedná o skladebné techniky a prostř edky, které př í mo vyjadř ují myšlenku autora. Za tyto prostředky lze považ ovat strukturu harmonie, strukturu polyfonie, vedení me-lodie jednotlivý mi hlasy i samotné tó ny. V neposlední ř adě patř í do reálného ztvá rně ní hudební ho dí la i způ sob instrumentace (v nonartifi ciá lní hudbě spí š e aranž e). Vnější podoba je tedy strukturovaná , ně které její č á sti mají blí ž e k fyziká lní mu vyjá dř ení , ně které se dotý kají samotné ho já dra umě lecké ho dí la – mají blí ž e k hudební mu vyzně ní . Vž dy vš ak platí , ž e tyto prostř edky je mož né exaktně popsat. Mezi zmí ně ný mi vrstvami vnější podoby se v př í padě hudební ho dí la nachá zí ješ tě jedna – podoba zvuku. Hudba má jako jediné umě ní vý hodu (č i nevý hodu), ž e dí lo není posluchač i př ijí má no př í mo od autora, musí bý t reinterpretová no. Tak se do autorova zá mě ru dostá vá i zá mě r interpretač ní , který mů ž e vyzně ní dí la zcela př ehodnotit. Hudební dí lo je interpretová no pomocí hudební ch ná strojů , z nich je zvuk prostorem př ená š en k posluchač i. Hudební ná stroje i prostor mají své zvukové vlastnosti, které ovlivň ují interpretaci – jsou tedy č á stí vnějšího vyjádření hudební ho dí la.

V př í padě , ž e se prostř ední kem mezi interpretem a posluchač em stá vá zvuková nahrá vka (nebo technické prostř edky ozvuč ení ), je tento prostor vyjádření rozš í ř en ješ tě o jednu vrstvu – zvukové ztvá rně ní konkré tní interpretace. Vyvstá vá zde otá zka o podobě

13 Více např. Vladimír Solovjov, „Krá sa v př í rodě ,“ in Ú vod do myš lení Vladimí ra Solovjova, Michaela Tenace (Velehrad: Refugium, 2000) a Wasily Kandinsky, O duchovnosti v umě ní, př eklad Anita Pelánová (Praha: Triá da, 2009).

14 Solovjov, „Krá sa v př í rodě ,“ 110.15 Solovjov, „Krá sa v př í rodě ,“ 111.

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této interpretace. Má bý t zvukové ztvá rně ní co nejví ce podobné tomu, které bychom slyš eli v ideá lní koncertní sí ni za ideá lní ch zvukový ch podmí nek? Má zvukový mistr zasahovat do díla v maximální možné míře? Na tyto otázky mohou odpovědět jen mistři zvuku, kteří dílo interpretují.16 Tak se zvukové zpracová ní stá vá dalš í m prostř edkem (nebo př eká ž kou) na cestě od skladatele k posluchač i.

V př í padě nonartifi ciální hudby je tato otá zka ješ tě slož itě jš í . Nonartifi ciá lní hudba od své ho poč á tku poč í tá se zvukový m zpracová ní m. Bez technický ch prostř edků není interpretace č asto ani mož ná . Zprvu se jednalo o pouhé zesí lení ně který ch ná strojů tak, aby dosá hly zvukové ú rovně ostatní ch a „sekce“ nebo ná stroje byly zvukově vyrovnané . Jedná se o obdobu posilová ní jednotlivý ch sekcí symfonické ho orchestru vě tš í m poč tem hrá č ů . Ně které elektronické ná stroje potř ebovaly aparaturu už jen kvů li tomu, ž e bez elektronické ho zesí lení zvuku by akusticky nefungovaly vů bec (např . elektrická kytara). Postupný m vý vojem dochá zelo k tomu, ž e se technické prostř edky staly souč á stí celkové ho vyzně ní a dokonce, ž e bez jejich pomoci není interpretace (a potaž mo i nahrá vka) nonartifi ciá lní hudby vů bec mož ná . Zvukové zpracová ní se tedy stalo interpretač ním (někdy i kompozičním) prostř edkem se vš emi aspekty, které k té to funkci ná lež í . Mů ž e ovlivnit (pozitivně , negativně i neutrá lně ) vyzně ní skladby.

Na zvuk se lze dí vat jako na samostatnou entitu, která sama o sobě může být předmětem estetického zájmu, a také jako na souč á st hudební ho dí la, která by svý mi vlastnostmi mě la podporovat celek. Zvuk je jednou ze slupek vnější podoby hudební ho dí la a jemu slouž í k vyjá dř ení vnitřní myšlenky. Ně kdy je kladen pož adavek na to, aby se zvuk stal č istě prů hlednou vrstvou, která bude to, co př evzala hloubě ji, vyná š et na povrch (hlavně v př í padě artifi ciá lní hudby). Jindy je vhodně jš í a pro danou skladbu př í nosně jš í , aby se zvuk stal vrstvou, která je vpravdě interpretač ní , tzn. př ejí má smysl z hlubš í ch vrstev a sama jej zpracová vá (př edevš í m nonartifi ciá lní hudba).

Pohled na zvuk jako na estetický objekt

Zpracová ní zvuku je do velké mí ry technický obor, proto př i hodnocení zvuku vyvstá vá jako první otá zka po technické kvalitě . Elektroakustický ř etě zec je soubor př í strojů , kvalita jeho př enosu je urč ová na nejslabš í m č lá nkem v ř adě a je fyziká lně popsatelná . Stejně tak je mož né fyziká lní mi velič inami popsat prostor, který m se zvuk š í ř í . Již na té to straně (tj. př ed vní má ní m zvuku) ovš em není mož né popsat kvalitu ve smyslu estetické m. Pokud hovoř í me o kvalitě jako o jakosti (vlastnostech př edmě tu – prostoru, elektroakustické ho ř etě zce), lze aplikovat teorii tzv. terciární vlastnosti? Př edmě ty mají urč ité standardy a ná s zají má jejich naplně ní , mů ž eme se dobrat smysluplný ch vý sledků . Problé m vš ak nastá vá již u oně ch standardů , které jsou jasně defi novatelné pouze do urč ité mí ry. Velice brzo pak hodnocení zvuku př echá zí do estetické ho hlediska, kde je mí rou subjektivní lí bí -nelí bí .

16 Znovu je potřeba upozornit na to, že k určité míře přeměny zvukové podoby díla – interpretace dochází vždy.

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V hodnocení zvukové kvality se vž dy pohybujeme v ně kolika polí ch. První pole je hodnocení vě rnosti zvuku, nebo spí š e projevu hudební ch ná strojů č i prostoru. Hodnotí me, zda daný př enos (hudební ná stroj/soubor hudební ch ná strojů – prostor – elektroakustický ř etě zec – posluchač ) nezkresluje realitu. Ke zkreslení ve smyslu př enosu ovš em dochá zí vž dy; ná stroj je vž dy ně jak kvalitní a vž dy zní v ně jaké m prostoru. Naš e hodnocení se opí rá o systé m vnitř ní ch zvukový ch modelů (vypě stovaný m zkuš enostmi) se který mi vní maný zvuk porovná vá me. Toto pole je ješ tě do velké mí ry slovně popsatelné . Dalš í pole př edstavuje celkový dojem ze zvuku. Jedná se už o do velké mí ry subjektivní zá lež itost. Hodnotí me zde lí bivost celku, to, jak celkový zvuk lahodí naš im uš í m. V tomto poli je hlavní m krité riem frekvenč ní a dynamická vyvá ž enost zvuku. Bob Katz navazuje toto celkové vyzně ní na ideá lně rozlož ené frekvenč ní spektrum symfonické ho orchestru.17 Uvá dí , ž e ideá lem celkové barvy zvuku je zvuk symfonické ho orchestru a k tomuto ideá lu smě ř uje celkové frekvenč ní vyvá ž ení nahrá vek. Tř etí m polem je hodnocení zvukové kvality jako ná vaznosti vyzně ní zvuku na celek hudební ho dí la. Toto pole je př evá ž ně vý sledkem estetické ho ztvá rně ní zvuku. Podle Syrové ho18 se estetika zvuku opí rá o dva zá klady: oblast fyziká lní kvality (která musí bý t vž dy naplně na; jedná se prá vě o vě rnost, nebo „poznatelnost“ zvuku a jeho zdroje) a oblast estetické kvality (která je ná stavbou na kval-itu fyziká lní ). V př í padě tř etí ho pole vš ak nastá vá problé m ve chví li, kdy se zvukový mistr – interpret rozhodne fyziká lní kvalitu popř í t prá vě za ú č elem zí ská ní kvality estetické . K takový m postupů m dochá zí č asto v populá rní hudbě . Pokud má bý t zvukové pole mod-elu interpretač ně př í nosné , nemů ž e se opí rat jen o oblast fyziká lní kvality, zde př ichá zí ke slovu prá vě kvalita estetická , která mů ž e fyziká lní kvalitu popí rat.

Z hlediska zvukař ské ho oboru se jedná o kombinaci ř emesla a umě ní . Ř emeslo pož aduje prvotní uchopení a schopnost pracovat se zvukem v rá mci fyziká lní kvality. Po jeho zvlá dnutí je mož né př istupovat ke zvuku jako k estetické mu objektu (nebo spí š e jako k zá kladní souč á sti estetické ho objektu – hudební ho dí la) a v tomto ohledu s ní m zachá zet.

Závěr

Tento výzkum prozkoumal praktickou aplikaci teorie estetiky zvuku, tak jak ji předkládá Václav Syrový. Dále navrhl možný pohled na zvuk jako no součást interpretace hudebního díla. Ve výzkumu bylo pomocí zpracování dat z dotazníků zodpovězeno několik otázek týkajících se vazby estetiky zvuku na estetiku hudby. Dále byl nastíněn možný teoretický základ pro pohled na hudební dílo, který počítá s faktem, že jednotlivé vrstvy zpracování a prezentování díla mají svůj vliv na jeho vnímání, že každá vrstva interpretuje hudební dílo v podobě, jakou jí předkládá vrstva o jednu úroveň níže.

17 Bob Katz, Mastering Audio, (USA: Focal Press, 2002).18 Václav Syrový, Hudební zvuk (Praha: AMU, 2014).

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Příloha: seznam výroků seřazených do tematických skupin

Zvukový ideál v představě 1 Existence zvukového ideálu 2 Relativita ideálu 3 Hledání zvukového ideálu

Oddělení hudby a zvuku 4 Špatné poslechové místo nevadí, je možné oddělit hudbu a zvuk 5 Zvuk a hudba jako jeden celek10 Zvuková krása závisí na hudební kráse12 Schopnost přenést se přes zvukovou chybu 13 Přenést se přes technickou chybu19 Zvuk pomáhá vyjádření něčeho, co je skryté v hudbě21 Zaměření na konkrétní vlastnost zvuku víc než na hudbu26 Nalezení hudby ve zvukové špatném prostředí40 Dobré místo na koncertě má velký vliv na vnímání hudby 47 Krása zvuku vychází z krásy hudby 49 Krása zvuku vychází ze souladu s prostorem 50 Dobrý zvuk lze oddělit od dobré hudby52 Řemeslná kvalita zpracování zvuku ovlivňuje sílu hudebního zážitku55 Krása zvuku i libozvučnost souvisí s hudebním dějem64 Špatné poslechové místo odvádí od vnímání hudby 69 Dokáže se přenést přes špatný zvuk70 Krásu zvuku je možné vnímat odděleně od hudby 79 Špatný zvuk ruší vnímání hudby 84 Krása esence zvuku85 Oddělení zvuku od jeho konotace, od reálnosti86 Hudba vstupuje přímo, skrze zvuk 88 Zvuk, který neruší, je dobrý, pak může být jen lepší

Rozdíly nahrávka – koncert 6 Potlačení vizuální části16 Preference koncertu17 Příprava na návštěvu koncertu jako obřad18 Vizuální část koncertu36 Nahrávka vždy stylizuje37 Modifi kace reálného prostoru v nahrávce40 Dobré místo na koncertě má velký vliv na vnímání hudby 57 Dříve měl názor, že nahrávka je čistší podání hudby 58 Nahrávka je lepší po zvukové stránce, je ošetřená 63 Nahrávka nahrazuje jak oči, tak uši

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73 Nahrávka umožňuje změnu oproti běžnému vnímání skutečnosti74 Možnost práce se zvukovým záznamem75 U zvukového záznamu je možný vznik nové informace77 Zvláštnost koncertu, atmosféra 78 Vjem je nestabilní, nahrávka je stabilní

Prostorovost 7 Prostorovost  8 Ozev sálu20 Stereofonie zobrazuje prostor22 Celek víc než detaily23 Prostor je vždy vnímaný, nelze jej obejít25 Návaznost hudby na prostor27 Prostor vždy je, není zvuk bez prostoru29 Prostor modifi kuje zvuk39 Okouzlení stereofonií – prostorem

Barva zvuku28 Vychutnání barvy zvuku59 První vnímá barvu nástrojů

Specifi ka digitálního záznamu 9 Žádné negativní vlivy digitálního záznamu56 Nevnímá rozdíl mezi analogovým a digitálním záznamem72 Preference digitálního záznamu

Moment vnímání zvuku11 Vnímání obrazu naráz44 Vnímání především hudby, ne zvuku66 Barva a prostor je vnímána zároveň68 Představa umělce při poslechu nahrávky82 Vnímá celek, objekt

Zaujetí pro obor nahrávání zvuku14 Technická fascinace15 Umělecká fascinace

Práce se zvukem30 Ztvárnění zvuku navazuje na jeho reálné vlastnosti31 Tvůrčí práce se zvukem je významotvorná33 Zvuková forma ovlivňuje hudební obsah34 Hudba ovlivňuje zpracování zvuku

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35 Ztvárnění zvuku je interpretace 43 Prostor musí sloužit hudbě46 Zvuk nahrávky vychází z reality, z pravděpodobnosti48 Řemeslná kvalita zvuku je základní předpoklad51 Zpracování zvuku může podpořit vyznění hudební myšlenky 52 Řemeslná kvalita zpracování zvuku ovlivňuje sílu hudebního zážitku53 Při vytváření zvuku se řeší jen řemeslné parametry 60 U zpracování zvuku záleží na typu hudby61 Zvuk na nahrávce se tvoří nově, nepřipodobňuje se62 Přizpůsobování tvaru zvuku podle hudby 67 Když je dobrá řemeslná kvalita, není nutná nástavba80 Podstatná je technická kvalita 81 Podstatná je řemeslná kvalita83 Cíl je nějaké sdělení posluchači, to se vyplňuje a jednotlivé složky se přizpůsobují, aby

to fungovalo87 Zvuk je další rovina interpretace 88 Zvuk, který neruší, je dobrý, pak může být jen lepší

Perception of music from a sound recording

Abstract

Using grounded theory, this article attempts to look at the sound treatment of a musi-cal record as an important component of artifi cial music. There are many possibilities to work with the sound of a recorded music, so the sound treatment becomes another interpretation. The interpreter in this case is the sound engineer. Using data collected from fi ve interviews with sound engineers, music directors and composers, we are trying to prove, that although the sound works only as a music carrier, it has an importance of its own and can also be looked at in terms of aesthetic view.

Vnímání hudby pomocí hudební nahrávky: zvuková interpretace

Abstrakt

S využitím metody tzv. ukotvené teorie příspěvek nahlíží na zvukové zpracování hudební nahrávky jako na významný komponent estetiky artifi ciální hudby. Existuje řada potenciál-ních přístupů k zpracování zvuku hudební nahrávky; jednou z možností je chápat zvukové zpracování jako „další“ interpretaci. Interpretem je v tomto smyslu zvukový inženýr. Na základě dat získaných během pěti rozhovorů (se zvukovými inženýry a skladateli) se studie pokouší dokázat skutečnost, že ačkoliv zvuk funguje primárně jako nositel „jiné“

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informace, za jistých okolností se stává „informací“ sám o sobě a v tomto směru nabývá významu jako estetický fakt svého druhu.

Keywords

Music; sound aesthetics; sound engineer; sound recording; sound treatment.

Klíčová slova

Hudba; zvuková estetika; zvukový inženýr; zvuková nahrávka; zvukové zpracování.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

“From the West to the Rest?” World Music im Wandel

Ivana Marijan – Julian Schmitz

Melodien, Stile, neue Klänge treiben durch die Welt ohne Respekt vor Grenzen und wirken auf jeden ein, der sie hört, ob er will oder nicht.1

Ein Rechtsklick mit der Maus. Downloaden und Fertig. Nur wenige Handgriff e sind vonnöten, um Musik aus jeglichen Regionen der Welt herunterzuladen. Unbehagliche Langstreckenfl üge oder noch unkomfortablere Fortbewegungsmittel werden überfl üssig. Willkommen im postmodernen Zeitalter.

Wer keinen Computer besitzt, der könnte das Radio einschalten. Sender wie „Funkhaus Europa“ senden Global Pop und Beats rund um die Uhr. (Fast) alles ist überall erreich-bar. So gelangt man simpel und unkompliziert an Musik aus entlegenen Weltregionen oder Musik aus Gegenden, in denen man noch nie seine Ohren geöff net hat. Der Berner Produzent und Musiker „Wildlife!“ beschreibt jenes Phänomen so:

Wenn heute ein Musiker in Luanda einen Track ins Internet stellt, dann habe ich ihn wenige Sekunden später bei mir auf dem Laptop. Und schon morgen lade ich vielleicht meinen Remix hoch.2

In jener postmodernen, globalisierten Welt in der wir heute leben und die sich allmählich immer mehr vom musikalischen und kulturellen Eurozentrismus verabschiedet, wird es wohl immer wichtiger werden, jenes Phänomen der World Music genauer und auch kritisch zu betrachten.

Transnationale Kompositionen werden im globalen, kulturellen Kontext zunehmend bedeutsamer und zwar nicht nur in der klassischen (Neuen) Musik, sondern eben auch und vor allem in der Popmusik und Kultur.

1 Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer, Klänge im Zeitalter ihrer medialen Verfügbarkeit (Bielefeld: Transcript 2010), 16.

2 Theresa Beyer – Thomas Burkhalter, Out of the Absurdity of Life: Globale Musik, ([Dei tingen]: Traversion, 2012), 16.

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Go West!? Die Kulturimperialismus- Debatte

Was passiert nun, wenn wie eingangs erwähnt, kulturelles Material wie eben die Popmusik für (fast) jeden und jederzeit verfügbar ist? Wird am Ende nicht sogar alles simultan angepasst und zu einem homogenen, kulturellen Einheitsbrei vermischt?

Die „cultural imperialism thesis“ greift jene Befürchtung auf. Sie deutet an, dass der westliche, kapitalistische Markt kulturelle Güter der dritten Welt in den globalen Markt lenkt und aufgrund der wirtschaftlichen und ökonomischen Überlegenheit westli-cher Wirtschaftsfaktoren jene in ihrer ursprünglichen Form und Existenz bedrohe wenn nicht sogar verdränge.3 Westliche ökonomische und ergo wohlmöglich auch kulturelle Überlegenheit führe zu einer „universal pop aesthetic.“4 Eine globale Popästhetik, die deutlich von westlichen Kulturvorstellungen dominiert wird. „From the west to the rest“5 ist ein Slogan, den man im Zusammenhang zu jener Kulturimperialismusdebatte häufi ger hört. Man fürchtete zudem, dass die kulturelle Homogenisierung des Westens und insbe-sondere in den USA, sich auf den gesamten Globus ausweiten könne.6 Eine allgemeine, universale Angst um den Verlust der jeweils eigenen kulturellen Eigenheit und Identität machte sich breit.7

Jene Befürchtung, von kulturimperialistischen (Raub-) Zügen, scheint auch in der Neuen Musik ein Diskurs zu sein. So kritisiert beispielsweise Heiner Goebbels, ein Musiktheaterkomponist:

[…] natürlich sind das Tempo und die Rücksichtslosigkeit, mit der z.B. die Musik aus Afrika, dem nahen Osten und Bulgarien transplantiert und vermarktet wird, grauenhaft […]. Grauenhaft sind außerdem alle Versuche, sich kulturelle Injektionen zu geben, von denen man keine gelebte Ahnung hat.8

In der Popmusik- Historie fi ndet man ebenfalls einige schwarze Schafe. Das wohl be-kannteste kontroverse Album ist „Graceland“ von Paul Simon aus dem Jahre 1986, bei dem er mit afrikanischen KünstlerInnen zusammen arbeitete, wie zum Beispiel mit dem senegalesischen Sänger Youssou N‘Dour oder dem südafrikanischen Isicathamiya- Chor Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Dagegen ist per se erst einmal nichts einzuwenden, vor allem wenn man bedenkt, dass Simon eigentlich die Absicht verfolgte, jene KünstlerInnen dem

3 Vgl. Tony Mitchell, Popular Music and Local Identity: Rock, Pop and Rap in Europe and Oceania (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1996), 49.

4 Timothy D. Taylor, Global Pop: World Music, World Markets (London: Routledge, 1997), 13.5 Mitchell, Popular Music and Local Identity, 50.6 Vgl. Andreas Gebesmair, Die Fabrikation globaler Vielfalt: Struktur und Logik der transnationalen

Popmusikindustrie (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2008), 82.7 Vgl. ebd.8 Heiner Goebbels, „Prince and the Revolution,“ in Revolution und Avantgarde in der Musik

(Seminarbeiträge zu den Kasseler Musiktagen 1988, Kassel 1989).

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westlichen Publikum bekannter zu machen. Doch Simon nennt diese Künstler nur im Kleingedruckten und nahm das Album zur Zeit der Apartheid in Südafrika auf, wofür er zu Recht stark kritisiert wurde. Vor allem, weil andere Künstler schon eine aktive Rolle gespielt haben, das System zu boykottieren. Des Weiteren muss man auch das musika-lische Material kritisch betrachten. Die englische Musikzeitschrift New Musical Express kritisiert Simons Art der musikalischen Kollaboration wie folgt: „Simon hat einige der aufregendsten Sounds der Welt genommen und sie mit glatten Kabarett-Arrangements und langweiligen Midlife-Crisis-Texten verkrüppelt.“9

Über Geschmack lässt sich jedoch bekanntlich streiten, daher scheint ein anderes Problem viel bedeutsamer zu sein: Dass Simon (in einer politisch brisanten Zeit) nach Südafrika zieht und dort für den unkundigen, westlichen Hörer selektiert und somit auch diktiert, was für ihn „südafrikanisch“ erscheint. Dieses Problem, dass weiße Bosse aus den Epizentren Nordamerikas und Europas diktieren, wie Musik aus fremden Kulturen zu klingen habe, ist ein bekanntes und allgemeines Phänomen der World Music.

World Music 1.0: One World – One Music

Im Jahre 1987 in dem Londoner Pub „Empress of Russia“ fand die Geburtsstunde ein-er weltweiten Marketingstrategie von Popmusiklabels statt. Ein Markenname für das neue Produkt der Popmusikindustrie, der aus einer Erfolg bringenden Idee von acht Independent-Labels konzipiert wurde, musste her.

Neben der konstant wachsenden Tourismus-Branche (z.B. Sammeln von Souvenirs usw.) stieg in den letzten Jahrzehnten auch das Interesse an Musik aus weltweit unter-schiedlichen Kulturen stark an, die jedoch bis dato noch keine eigene und besonders große Verkaufs- und Vertriebsstätte besaß. So entschlossen sich die Mitglieder für das Brand World Music. Während neben dem Etikett World Music, Begriff e wie „Worldbeat“, „Ethno-Pop“ auch einen Platz unter dem Dach des breitgefächerten Musikgenres fanden, wurden folgende Kategorisierungen wie „Folk“, „International“ oder „Tropical Music“ eher vermieden da sie dem Zeitgeist nicht entsprachen.10

„We are all connected“- Die Idee Musikformen aus aller „nicht-westlicher“ Welt in die Popmusik zu integrieren, entpuppte sich als eines der erfolgreichsten Kampagnen in der Geschichte der Schallplattenindustrie. Seit der Gründung von World Music befand sich neben Pop, Klassik, Folk, Jazz usw. auch World Music als Musikgenre-Bezeichnung zwischen den Schallplattenregalen. Sie war also Produkt und Resultat eines wachsenden Globalisierungsprozess. Labels wie Globestyle, Earthworks, Realworld, usw. entstanden im Zuge des Marketingkonzepts von World Music. Vertreter, Konzertveranstalter, Artist-&-Repertoire-Verantwortliche, Promotoren und Journalisten gehörten der World Music

 9 „Genie im Urwald,“ Spiegel, Ausgabe 24/1991.10 Vgl. Binas-Preisendörfer, Klänge im Zeitalter, 116.

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Kampagne an und verwalteten und verbreiteten somit die Produktpalette an nichtwestli-chen Musikformen durch Tonträger, Bands, Sendeformaten und Konzerten.11

Doch die oben anfangs erwähnte Geburtsstunde der World Music zeichnet sich nicht als absolut neues Phänomen der Musikbranche aus. Besonders nicht wenn es um das Interesse an nichtwestlicher Musikformen geht. World Music ist lediglich eine aus der westlich geprägten Industriewelt entstandene Marketingstrategie, die in-tern den Musikern, Labels etc. Möglichkeiten bietet Musikformen aus aller Welt zu integrieren bzw. an Popularität zu gewinnen und extern den Konsumenten die exoti-sche Vielfalt an Musikformen schmackhaft zu machen. Das Interesse des „exotischen Anderen“ kristallisiert sich aus einer jahrzehntelangen Disziplin heraus, nämlich die der Musikethnologie, die genau durch das Sammeln von Tonband-und Videoaufnahmen außereuropäischer Musikformen, sich erst ein Pool an Möglichkeiten bilden konnte, wovon Musikinteressenten profi tierten. Philip V. Bohlman nennt dazu einen passenden, historischen Fakt im folgenden Satz:

In the early history of folk music research and ethnomusicology, scholars doing fi eldwork were often photographed organizing their collections and making their recordings. In sever-al notable cases, these photographs have become icons for the collection and study of world music. There they are, the ancestors of today’s ethnomusicologists and today’s performers of world music, encountering each other and locked in the exchange of cultural knowledge.12

Bereits in den 50er Jahren gelangen Klänge aus der Karibik, Musikformen wie Calypso, Samba, Bossa Nova, in das Album „Edition Capitol of the World Series“ des westlichen Tonträgerunternehmen Capitol Records, welches als Musik für Touristen kategorisiert wurde. Die Blütezeit der World Music fand Ende der 80er und Anfang der 90er Jahre statt. Wichtige Festivals und Produktionen lieferten dabei Paul Simon (Graceland) und Peter Gabriel. Eine Initiative Peter Gabriels war das WOMAD Festival in Großbritannien, welches 1982 in Shepton Mallett erstmals stattfand. Sogar heute noch als eines der wichtig-sten, populärsten und bedeutsamsten Ereignisse der World Music Historie, wird das WOMAD Festival anerkannt und praktiziert. Das Label Realworld gründete Peter Gabriel wenige Jahre später. Hier trafen sich Interpreten/ Vertreter von weltweiten Musikformen und Tänzen, deren Karriere durch das WOMAD Festival angekurbelt wurde. Musiker wie z.B. Youssou N’Dour, ein erfolgreicher Sänger aus Senegal, gewannen an zunehmender Popularität.

As a musician, WOMAD has provided me with the possibility to work with many artists from other cultures, often in a very spontaneous way. Rather than a loose jam session, I love to work on songs, but with plenty of space for improvisation. Occasionally these

11 Ibidem, 116. 12 Philip V. Bohlman, World Music: A Very Short Introduction (New York: Oxford University Press,

2002), 23.

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mixed marriages do not work at all, but more often they produce real magic, full of feeling and discovery.13

Die magische Entdeckung über die Peter Gabriel im vorigen Zitat spricht, lässt sich in der weiteren Entwicklung der World Music wiedererkennen. Den Mischungen von Musikformen sind keine Grenzen mehr gesetzt, sowie die Verbreitung von Indie-Labels nicht zu stoppen war. Schon bald löst sich der ursprüngliche Gedanke einer Integration weltweiter Musikformen in Popmusik ab. Die Mischung verschiedener Musikformen ist in gewisser Weise selbst zu Pop geworden. Doch genau diese Vorgehensweise wurde in der Musikgeschichte oft kritisiert. Die Idee einer globalen einheitlichen Musik für Jedermann wurde oft hinterfragt. Während die aus der World Music geschöpfte Förderung an Kreativität für zahlreiche westliche Musiker keinen Halt kannte, wurden die integri-erten Musikalien und die dahinter stehenden Interpreten genauer betrachtet.

From a Western standpoint, it often seems as if the ontologies of world music are untrans-latable, especially because the most fundamental ontological categories in the West treat music as if it were an object, a “thing,” that possesses meaning in and of itself.14

Musik aus verschiedenen Kulturen und Kreisen als einfachen Gegenstand in ein Neues zu pfl anzen, schien im Bereich der kulturellen Identität in erster Linie beängstigend zu wirken, denn oft steht sie im Zusammenhang mit anderen Situationen da, wie z.B. im sozialen Kontext. Auch die Kooperation und Kommunikation zwischen den westlichen Labels und den Interpreten gelang oft in die Kritik.

There’s also the darker side to world music. World music can raise fears that we are losing much that is close to home. Its homogenizing eff ect threatens village practices as it privileges the spaces of the global village. Its dissemination across the globe depends on the appropriation of transnational recording companies, whose primary interests are to exploit cultural resources. Fusion and border- crossing may enrich some world-music styles, but they impoverish others. At the beginning oft the 21st century, there is much about the rhetoric and reality of globalization that has given world music a bad name.15

Die Ausbeutung von Kulturgütern, in dem Fall Musikformen, nimmt laut Bohlman Bestandteil als Negativpunkt der World Music ein. Bereits lange vor der Gründung der Marketingstrategie fi ndet sich diese Problematik in der Musikgeschichte wieder. The Evening Birds mit ihrem Frontsänger Solomon Linda galten in der Blütezeit der Chormusik der Zulu- Wanderarbeiter isicathamiya als eines der populärsten Bands in

13 Peter Gabriel, “Foreword,” in Worldwide: Ten Years of WOMAD, a Various Artists Compilation (London: Real World, 1992), 5.

14 Philip V. Bohlman, “Preface,” in World Music: A Very Short Introduction (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).

15 Ibidem.

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den 30er Jahren.16 1939 entdeckte der Talentscout Griffi th Motsieloa den Männerchor und nahm in einem der ersten Tonstudios Südafrikas „Gallo Studios“den Song „Mbube“ (Zulu für Löwe) auf. Der Song wurde weltweit über 150 mal gecovert und in 13 Filmen verwendet, wie z.B. bei Walt Disneys Lion King und brachte Millionen US-Dollar ein. Solomon Linda und seine Familienangehörigen wurden allerdings am Gewinn jahrzehn-telang nicht beteiligt. Erst durch Rian Malans erschienenem Artikel im Rolling Stone Magazine im Jahre 2000, entfachte ein Rechtsstreit über Lindas Geschichte. Durch den Musikforscher Alan Lomax kam „Mbube“ erst in die westliche Welt, der zufällig ein Schallplattenexemplar in die Hände bekam. Von dem Zeitpunkt an kam Mbube nach Westen. Peter Seeger, the Weavers, the Tokens, Kingston Trio, Miriam Makeba usw. coverten den Song in zahlreichen Variationen vom Folksong bis hin zum niedlichen Popsong der ein Welthit wurde. Solomon Linda bekam zwar eine erhebliche Summe von Peter Seeger, wurde jedoch so gut wie nie als eigentlicher Urheber des Songs genannt.17 Hier zeigt sich der negative Aspekt der Idee einer vereinten Weltmusikstrategie, in der die westliche Machtbestimmung und Hierarchie vorherrscht.

Auch der Welthit „Sweet Lullaby“ von Deep Forest besteht aus mehreren Takten eines melanesischen Wiegenliedes „Rorogwela Lullaby“, welches durch den schweizer Musikethnologen Hugo Zempt erst in die Hände der französisch-belgischen Gruppe kam. Eine Abklärung zwischen der melanesischen Frau auf der ursprünglichen Aufnahme und Deep Forest kam nie zustande. Genau wie bei Solomon Lindas Mbube mangelt es an Abklärung zwischen den Akteuren und den westlichen Labels. Die Interpreten des „exotischen Anderen“ sind im 20. Jahrhundert an die westlichen großen Haie der Popmusikindustrie gebunden (gewesen).

World Music 2.0: The New Global Sound?

World Music im 21. Jahrhundert ist jedoch anders. Sie ist nicht mehr nur die Musik des exotischen Fremden.18 Es ist mehr als lediglich das Sammeln und Konservieren möglichst exotischer und fremder Klänge. Die Weltmusik des globalen Zeitalters ist stetig auf der Suche nach hybriden, transkulturellen Sounds und Interaktionen verschiedener Kulturen und kann als musikalische Brücke zwischen Kulturen fungieren.19

16 Vgl. Veit Erlmann, Nightsong: Performance, Power and Practice in South Africa (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 60ff .

17 Vgl. Rian Malan, The Lion Sleeps Tonight and other Stories of Africa (London: Grove Press, 2012), 61ff .

18 Vgl. Bohlman, “Preface.” 19 Laurent Aubert, Music of the Other: New challenges for Ethnomusicology in a Global Age (Burlington:

Ashgate, 2007), 54.

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Es braucht keinen Paul Simon mehr, der in fremde Länder reist, um den Klang an-derer Kulturen bekannt zu machen. Musikalischer Austausch heutzutage erfolgt global beziehungsweise transnational.

Im Zeitalter der Globalisierung, […] musical styles which seemed to have nothing in common now overlap, meet, intertwine and sometimes copulate to give birth to un-expected off spring: products of interaction between genres, cultures and technologies.20

Durch eine fortschreitende Globalisierung und Technologisierung verschieben sich die traditionellen Musikproduktionszentren. Um die heutige World Music adäquat be-schreiben zu können, braucht es also auch eine neue Begriffl ichkeit. Theresa Beyer und Thomas Burkhalter nennen die Word Music der globalisierten Welt des 21. Jahrhunderts „World Music 2.0“.

Moderne Popkulturen und somit auch World Music 2.0 entstehen nicht mehr nur euro- bzw. „westzentrisch“, sondern polyzentrisch, hauptsächlich zwar im Austausch zwischen dem sogenannten Globalen Norden und Globalem Süden.21 Aber auch letzte-res scheint sich aktuell sukzessiv zu wandeln, zumindest scheint man den Eindruck zu bekommen, wenn man den Song Somos Sur der chilenischen Künstlerin Ana Tijoux und der palästinensischen Hip-Hopperin Shadia Mansour betrachtet. „Wir sind Süden“ heißt der durchaus politische Song übersetzt, bei dem die Länder des sogenannten globalen Südens sowie indigene Völker aufgefordert werden, sich nicht in eine Opferrolle drän-gen zu lassen, sondern vereint Widerstand zu leisten. Anfangs leiten Trompeten- Klänge den Kampf ein und werden dann mit Hip-Hop Sprechgesang und Beats verschmolzen. Diese Klänge könnten aber auch von einer „gaita navarra“, eine spanische Doppelrohr-Flöte, stammen. Ana Tijoux spielt bewusst mit diesen nicht eindeutig zu identifi zierenden Klängen, denn es entstehen beim Hören auch Klang-Assoziationen aus dem Nahen Osten und somit der Herkunft von Shadia Mansour.

Es ist eine sehr stringente und hybride Komposition und ist somit exemplarisch für die „World Music 2.0“.

20 Ibidem, 57.21 Vgl. Beyer – Burkhalter, Out of the Absurdity, 29.

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Abb. 1: Screenshot aus dem Musikvideo „Somos Sur“ von Ana Tijoux feat. Shadia Mansour

Die eingangs erwähnte Kulturimperialismus-These und alle damit einhergehenden Ängste einer universalen, durch den Westen homogenisierten Kulturästhetik, scheint in der World Music 2.0 keine Rolle mehr zu spielen, denn „weltweit verfügbare Waren, Medien, Ideen und Institutionen des modernen Lebens führen nicht zu einer Angleichung der Kulturen, sondern werden von Menschen […] in ihr eigenes Weltbild integriert.“22

Vor allem aber durch den fortschreitenden musikalischen Polyzentrismus und die Technologisierung spielt der Kulturimperialismus für die World Music keine wichtige Rolle mehr.

World Music 2.0 ist der Sound einer globalisierten und hybriden (Pop-)Kultur, ein transkulturelles musikalisches Kommunikationsmittel, das keinen Moderator des Westens mehr braucht.

“From the West to the Rest? World Music in Transition

Abstract

“Melodies, styles, new sounds drifting through the world without respect for borders and act on anyone who hears them, whether they like it or not.” (Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer: Klänge im Zeitalter ihrer medialen Verfügbarkeit, Bielefeld: Transcript, 2010, 16.). In today’s postmodern and globalized world, it is eff ortless to listen to any kind of music around

22 Preisendörfer-Binas, Klänge im Zeitalter, 22.

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the world from any place via internet or radio for example. But does this techno-cultural phenomena automatically lead to a cultural (and often called westernized) mainstream?

This essay examine how world music is changing under the conditions of a globalized world.

“From the West to the Rest?” World Music v transformačním procesu

Abstrakt

“Melodies, styles, new sounds drifting through the world without respect for borders and act on anyone who hears them, whether they like it or not.” (Susanne Binas-Preisendörfer: Klänge im Zeitalter ihrer medialen Verfügbarkeit, Bielefeld: Transcript, 2010, 16.). V sou-časném postmoderním a globalizovaném světě lze prostřednictvím internetu či rádia bez nejmenší námahy kdekoliv poslouchat rozmanité směry hudby celého světa. Vedou ale tyto technicko-kulturní fenomény ke kulturnímu mainstreamu (západního typu)? Studie zkoumá, jakým způsobem se proměňuje „world music“ v podmínkách globalizovaného světa.

Keywords

Cultural imperialism; globalization; global pop; world music.

Klíčová slova

Kulturní imperialismus; globalizace; globální pop; “world music”.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Hudba a zpěv v olomouckých tělocvičných spolcích v letech 1918–19391

Ingrid Silná

Hlavní náplní tělocvičných spolků, jak je vyjádřeno nejčastěji v názvu buď českém – tělocvičná jednota, nebo německém – Turnverein, Sportverein, bylo (a dosud je) cvičení různého druhu. Zpočátku se jednalo o prostná cvičení a cvičení s nářadím, postupně přibývaly další sportovní disciplíny. Vedle toho se spolky snažily ve větší či menší míře o vzdělávání svých členů přednáškami, a též o jejich kulturní rozvoj.

V Olomouci působilo v meziválečném období několik tělocvičných spolků; k nejpočetnějším českým patřil od roku 1869 Sokol, dále Orel, založený roku 1909, z německých vyvíjel od roku 1862 činnost Turnverein. Tyto spolky nebyly v Olomouci je-diné, z českých zde dále působila např. Dělnická tělocvičná jednota (1908), z německých její obdoba – Allgemeiner Arbeiter Turnverein (1909) a později Arbeiter- Turn- und Sportverein (1922), křesťansky orientovaný Christlich-deutscher Turnverein (1922) a ze židovských od roku 1901 tělocvičný spolek Zion, přejmenovaný roku 1927 na Makkabi.2

K hudebně nejaktivnějším patřily v Olomouci tři tělocvičné spolky – Sokol, Orel a Turnverein. Jejich členové se věnovali vedle cvičení také hraní divadla, zpěvu nebo vytvářeli instrumentální ansámbly, což vedení spolků podporovala. Tato jejich hudební činnost bude zde nastíněna na základě studia zejména dobových dokumentů uložených ve Státním okresním archivu Olomouc, Zemském archivu v Opavě, pobočka Olomouc a olomouckých deníků Pozor, Našinec a Mährisches Tagblatt z let 1918–1939.

Člensky nejpočetnějším a nejvíce rozšířeným českým spolkem byl Sokol, a to jak ve městech, tak na vesnicích. V rámci tehdejšího Velkého Olomouce existovalo deset so-kolských jednot: nejstarší v Olomouci městě (1869), Hodolanech (1901), Chválkovicích (1908), Řepčíně-Hejčíně (1908–1909), Černovíře (1909), Nových Sadech (1909), Bělidlech (1910), Pavlovičkách (1913), Neředíně (1919) a Novém Světě (1920). Všechny

1 Studie vznikla v rámci projektu FPVČ – České a německé hudební spolky v Olomouci v letech 1918 až 1939.

2 Jiří Trapl – Miloš, „Tělovýchova a sport,“ in Dějiny Olomouce, red. Jindřich Schulz (Olomouc: Univerzita Palackého, 2009), 177–181.

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se zabývaly amatérským divadelnictvím a většina i loutkovým divadlem. Pěvecké kroužky se utvořily nejen v olomouckém Sokole, ale i na předměstích, a to v Hodolanech, Chválkovicích, Černovíře, Nových Sadech a Bělidlech. Pěvecký kroužek v olomouckém Sokole měl krátké trvání (léta 1921–1923), u jeho počátků v roce 1921 stál Emanuel Ambros (1885 –1955)3 a Josef Nedvěd (1903–1942).4 Větší aktivitu projevovaly tyto kroužky v hodolanském a černovírském Sokole. V Hodolanech existoval pěvecký kroužek již od roku 1909. Vystřídalo se v něm několik sbormistrů, po válce učitelé Viktor Michalík (člen Pěveckého sdružení moravských učitelů), Jan Mohapl, a poměrně krátce roku 1930 československý farář Alois Tregler (1900–1971)5 a Josef Nedvěd. Sbor prováděl skladby Smetanovy (Věno, Píseň na moři, Přiletěly vlaštovičky), Dvořákovy (Moravské dvojzpěvy a Hymnus) a Foersterovy (Oráč a Skřivánkovi). Obdobný repertoár zpíval sokolský pěvecký kroužek v Černovíře pod vedením Eduarda Peřiny a posléze Eugena Deckera (člena Pěveckého sdružení moravských učitelů). Další sokolské pěvecké kroužky – v Bělidlech vedený Františkem Doleželem6 a v Chválkovicích pod vedením učitele Antonína Petra, měly ve svém repertoáru rovněž sborové skladby českých autorů. O sokolském pěveckém kroužku v Nových Sadech máme dochováno málo zpráv. Počátkem dvacátých let 20. sto-letí zde zpíval pod Lechnerovým vedením.7 Patrně brzy zanikl, protože v roce 1931 Sokol obnovil pěvecký sbor.8

Hudební kroužky či odbory byly založeny v Olomouci, Chválkovicích, Černovíře, Nových Sadech, Bělidlech a Pavlovičkách. V olomouckém Sokole se podařilo vytvořit hudební odbor díky aktivitě některých členů roku 1923.9 Jednalo se o orchestr, který se postupně vypracoval na poměrně schopné hudební těleso, i když v jeho řízení docházelo

3 E. Ambros působil jako středoškolský pedagog v Olomouci a v Brně, organizátor hudebního živo ta (zejm. Volného sdružení přátel moderní hudby v Olomouci), hudební kritik, a příležitostně i kom-ponoval.

4 Zástupce dirigenta pěveckého sboru Šestnáctka v letech 1931–1941.5 A. Tregler byl synem varhaníka a skladatele Eduarda Treglera. V té době působil jako farář Círk ve

československé v Hodolanech. Studoval na Janáčkově varhanické škole v Brně varhany a na kon-zervatoři skladbu a dirigování, které nedokončil. Studoval dále v Praze na Husově československé evangelické bohoslovecké fakultě, v roce 1923 získal státní stipendium do USA a pokračoval na Columbia Theological seminary. Působil jako farář Církve československé na několika místech. Z této služby odešel a působil pedagogicky na několika školách, z nichž na poslední, Husově bohoslovecké fakultě v Praze, zastával v letech 1965–1971 funkci lektora zpěvu a dějin církevní hudby. Viz podrobněji: Ingrid Silná, Chrámový pěvecký sbor Církve československé husitské v Olomouci-Hodolanech (Olomouc: Univerzita Palackého, 2010).

6 Luboš Toušek a kol., TJ Sokol Bělidla 100. výročí 1909–2009 (Olomouc 2009), 14.7 „Těl. jednota Sokol v Olom.-Novém Světě,“ Pozor, 29. května 1924, 5.8 „Sokol Nové Sady,“ Pozor, 29. března 1931, 6. „Program [veřejného cvičení] doplní nově nacvičenými

sbory pěvecký kroužek Sokola novosadského za řízení br. Lechnera.“9 Jan Hrdina, „Zpráva hudebního odboru,“ in Pozvání k valné řádné hromadě tělocvičné jednoty Sokol

v Olomouci 1924 (Olomouc: Sokol Olomouc, 1924), 41. Hudební odbor tehdy vlastnil tyto nástroje: harmonium, kontrabas, housle, violoncello, dvě fl étny, dva klarinety, dva lesní rohy, trubku, buben, činely, triangl, kastaněty, tamburínu a dvacet pultů na noty.

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ke změnám dirigentů.10 Podle potřeby disponoval těmito ansámbly: dechovým orchest-rem (s počtem 12–64 členů), smyčcovým orchestrem (10–32 členů), francouzským sa-lonním orchestrem (8–10 členů) a orchestrem „šramlovým a jazz-bandem (4–6 členů).11 V roce 1929 hrával i na promenádních koncertech v olomouckých Smetanových sa-dech pod taktovkou Ludvíka Černohorského.12 Na svém prvním koncertu v neděli 5. května 1929 vystoupil s tímto programem: Bohuslav Leopold – Avia (pochod), Louis-Aimé Maillart – Zvonek poustevníkův (ouvertura), Julius Fučík – Eskarpolette (valčík), Bedřich Smetana – Dalibor (fantasie), Jan Pehlík – Koncertní mazurka, Giuseppe Verdi – I Lombardi (úprava sboru z opery), Hermann Hopf – Didaskalia.13 Kromě těchto koncertů uspořádal v měsících srpnu a září téhož roku promenádní koncerty ve všech olomouckých předměstích. Kapela vystupovala v sokolských krojích. Vedení spolku vidělo problematickým fi nanční ohodnocení hudebníků. Již v roce 1929 jednal výbor Sokola o rozpuštění kapely pro „nesokolské jednání“.14 Tím vedení spolku rozumělo porušení zásady obětavosti členů a účinkování kapely na akcích Sokola zadarmo podle jeho hesla „Ni zisk, ni slávu“. V následujícím roce vedení Sokola ve spolupráci s hudebním odborem sepsalo Jednací řád hudebního odboru tělocvičné jednoty, se kterým se však hudebníci neztotožnili. L. Černohorský se vzdal funkce dirigenta a kapela přešla pod taktovku houslisty, skladatele, kapelníka a pedagoga Františka Černého (1875–1943)15 z Hodolan. Problémy přetrvávaly, a proto dne 15. dubna 1931 se správní výbor Sokola usnesl, že „Hudební odbor se zrušuje.“16 Tímto rozhodnutím defi nitivně skončilo téměř osmileté trvání olomoucké sokolské kapely.

Hudební kroužek chválkovického Sokola se podílel spolu s divadelním odborem hlavně na provádění operet. Početně se pohyboval v rozmezí 13–16 členů, do roku 1931 jej dirigoval učitel Jaroslav Gregor, po něm nastoupil František Zedník (1893–1957), otec skladatele a pedagoga Mojmíra Zedníka. K nejvýznamnějším divadelním představením patřilo určitě provedení operety Románek krásné Toničky Richarda Branalda (1876–1950).

10 Státní okresní archiv Olomouc (dále SOkA Ol.), fond M 6-50 – Tělocvičná jednota Sokol Olomouc, inv. č. 27 – Zápisy ze schůzí výbor a valných hromad. Václav Střelec, Jednatelská správa k výroční schůzi zábavního odboru, 21. Zápis o řádné valné hromadě ze dne 27. února 1927. V roce 1926 absol-voval orchestr na 42 vystoupení a ve svém archivu měl tehdy úctyhodný počet skladeb – 652.

11 Bohdan Háva, „Zpráva hudebního odboru,“ in Pozvání na řádnou valnou hromadu Tělocvičné jednoty Sokol Olomouc (Olomouc 1928), 45.

12 L. Černohorský byl v době Rakouska-Uherska kapelníkem pěšího pluku č. 91. 13 „Program koncertu sokolské hudby,“ Pozor, 5. května 1929, 4. O čtyři dny později, ve čtvrtek, zde

vystupovala sokolská hudba opět, ovšem s jiným koncertním programem.14 SOkA Ol., fond M 6-50 – Tělocvičná jednota Sokol Olomouc, inv. č. 27 – Zápisy ze schůzí výboru

a valných hromad. Zápis z výborové schůze Sokola 15. října 1929.15 František Černý byl synem vojenského kapelníka Františka Černého, hru na housle studoval u Ota-

kara Ševčíka a skladbu u Josefa Nešvery. Od roku 1910 se usadil v Hodolanech a působil zde až do své smrti.

16 SOkA Ol., fond M 6-50 – Tělocvičná jednota Sokol Olomouc, inv. č. 27 – Zápisy ze schůzí výboru a valných hromad – rok 1931. Zápis o schůzi správního výboru Sokola 15. dubna 1931.

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Autor ji věnoval chválkovickému Sokolu a premiéře 14. srpna 1927 byl osobně přítomen.17 Úspěch také slavila ve dnech 8. a 9. dubna 1928 opereta Krajánek Holandr na klepandě Richarda Branalda s hudbou Václava Mühlbacha (1894–1931), který „za úspěšné, vzorné a skutečně s láskou prováděné nastudování jeho muziky věnoval a zaslal hudebnímu odbo-ru zvláštní pochod Pozdrav Chválkovicím. Tento bude před ouverturou zahrán“.18 Vlastní tvorbu představovala původní práce režiséra chvalkovického Sokola Antonína (Tony) Rajhela s hudbou místního učitele J. Gregora: napsali spolu operetu Milunčina první láska, provedenou 25. prosince 1928. O pět let později, 15. dubna 1933, zde premiéroval svou operetu Polibek štěstí pedagog a dómský varhaník Stanislav Vrbík (1907–1987), jemuž libreto napsal A. Rajhel a orchestr dirigoval František Zedník. „Polibek štěstí vykazu-je smysl a pohotovost pro lehkou, elegantní a líbivou melodii i přitažlivost moderního šlágru – je zdařilý v instrumentaci […] Nedělní představení pod taktovkou mistra Zedníka značně přesahovalo rámec obvyklých ochotnických výkonů a je pěkným výsledkem jak pro mladého skladatele, kterému se dostalo zaslouženého potlesku.“19

V Černovíře se podařilo po válce obnovit sokolskou hudbu v rámci hudebního kroužku, který využíval kroužek (odbor) divadelní. Úspěšná byla např. 27. listopadu 1927 hra se zpěvy Václava Hynka Tulák, při níž účinkoval tento hudební kroužek za řízení Františka Tomana. Tuto hru pak spolek několikrát úspěšně reprízoval.20

V Pavlovičkách sokolský hudební kroužek působil ve dvacátých letech 20. století a roku 1929 zanikl.21 Sokol v Nových Sadech začal v roce 1934 spolupracovat po hu-dební stránce s Františkem Zedníkem, jenž zde založil malý orchestr. Vystupoval při různých příležitostech a divadelních představeních. V tomto roce sestavili hudebníci s F. Zedníkem ještě „sokolský jazz“, který hrával při tzv. čajích o páté. Také v bělidelském Sokole si vytvořili členové ve třicátých letech hudební kroužek i pětičlenný jazz orchestr. V řepčínském Sokole se hudebníci sdružili do tamburašského souboru.

Tyto kroužky se prezentovaly nejčastěji při různých sokolských akcích – zábavách (k nim např. patřilo sokolské vinobraní, sokolská veselice, kateřinská zábava, mikulášská zábava, silvestrovský večer apod.), různých večírcích a akademiích. Jejich doplňkem byly různé besídky – např. dorostu, dorostenek a žactva s programem tělocvičným, recitačním, hudebním i zpěvním, který obstarávali hudebně zdatní členové Sokola. Hudební doprovod

17 „Z Olomouce-Chválkovic,“ Pozor, 10. srpna 1927, 4.18 „Olomouc-Chválkovice,“ Pozor, 4. dubna 1928, 4.19 „Pěkný úspěch olomouckého skladatele,“ Pozor, 19. dubna 1933, 4.20 Hru reprízoval 25. prosince téhož roku v Hejčíně, 26. prosince opět v Černovíře a 29. dubna 1928

ve chválkovickém Sokole.21 „Spory vypuklé mezi dirigentem hudby a hudebním kroužkem vedly k úplnému zániku tohoto hudeb-

ního sdružení, jež se tak slibně rozvíjelo.“ Richard Martinčík, Z dějin českých spolků v Pav lovičkách [strojopis], 1934, 45.

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a zpěv zazníval i při veřejných cvičeních nebo v rámci tělocvičných hodin cvičenci zpívali k pochodování.22

Hlavní zábavní akcí řady sokolských jednot bývaly každým rokem šibřinky (v lednu nebo únoru). Příprava na ně trvala přibližně dva až tři měsíce. Jednalo se nejen o zvolení určitého tématu a o nácvik zábavní a hudební stránky celé akce, ale i výtvarné řešení dekorace sálu, propagaci, včetně grafi cky řešených pozvánek, příp. vydání šibřinkového zpravodaje nebo v olomouckém Sokole i zkomponování taneční písně k této příležitosti (např. v roce 1936 Křídla nad oblaky na text F. Jeřábka s hudbou Mirka Volka nebo v roce 1938 slow-fox Dvojí svět na text Lídy Merlínové s hudbou Mirka Volka). Hudební stránku obstarávaly různé olomoucké kapely, včetně vojenské.23

Vedle sokolských jednot byly také poměrně početné jednoty orelské. Svůj program postavily na křesťanských základech a podobně jako Sokol se věnovaly činnosti kulturní, společenské, vzdělávací (přednáškové) a náboženské (spjaté s katolickou církví). Poměrně rychle se tato nová tělocvičná organizace šířila zejména na Moravě. Olomoucký Orel vznikl v roce 1909, o dva roky později hejčínský. Na předměstích Olomouce se utvářely orelské jednoty později, až po první světové válce: v Chválkovicích roku 1921, v Řepčíně (a současně obnovená v Hejčíně) roku 1922, v Černovíře roku 1922, v Nových Sadech se pobočná olomoucká jednota, vzniklá roku 1923, o tři léta později (1926) osamostatnila. Podobně se osamostatnily orelské jednoty v Hodolanech roku 1924 a na Nové Ulici roku 1930.

Situace tohoto katolicky orientovaného spolku nebyla v poválečné době jednoduchá, neboť jej napadali představitelé protikatolického hnutí i Sokola. „Pracujeme za těžkých poměrů. Kde jen možno, pracuje se proti nám. Zvl. pomluvou a zesměšňováním. My jdeme však vpřed přímou cestou dál.“24

Orelské pěvecké kroužky se utvořily jen v Olomouci a v Černovíře. Olomoucký existo-val poměrně krátce v letech 1919–1924 pod vedením P. Jana Martinů a prováděl skladby českých autorů, např. P. Křížkovského, B. Smetany, J. B. Foerstera aj. Poté si Orel zval k účinkování olomouckou Cyrilskou jednotu. Černovírský pěvecký kroužek vedl jednatel spolku František Veselý. Každoročně vystupoval na svatováclavských akademiích a zpíval jak smíšené, tak mužské sbory. Jeho repertoár byl patrně obdobný.

V roce 1923 započal svou činnost v olomouckém Orlu hudební kroužek – malý, přibližně dvacetičlenný orchestr, který pod vedením kapelníka Josefa Jaňoura vystoupil poprvé 8. dubna 1923 na hudební besedě v Lidovém domě. Vybral si poměrně náročný, pro posluchače ale přístupně laděný program: Pochod z Wagnerova Tannhäusera, Fantasii ze Smetanova Dalibora a ouverturu k opeře Hubička, Dvořákův Slovanský tanec č. 4,

22 Členové byli nabádáni ke zpěvu též při vycházkách, výletech a táboření. Měli zpívat národní písně a vyhýbat se šlágrům, které „kazí náš národní charakter a jsou určeny více méně pro dvojsmyslnost barovému obecenstvu.“ Viz kr, „S písní na rtech,“ in Věstník Sokolské župy olomoucké (Olomouc 1935), 101.

23 Podrobnější zprávy nalezneme v olomouckém deníku Pozor z let 1918–1938.24 „Akademie Orla v Olomouci,“ Našinec, 3. prosince 1919, 3.

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Fantasii z Verdiho Aidy, ouverturu k Maritaně Williama Vincenta Wallaceho, Boieldieuovu předehru k opeře Kalif z Bagdadu a směs z Weberova Čarostřelce. Provedení skladeb hod-notila kritika v olomouckém Našinci jako dobré, i když vytkla určité nedostatky ve výrazu a zvukovosti tohoto tělesa.25 Tato Jaňourova kapela vystupovala poměrně často při různých orelských akcích. Dalším hudebním orelským souborem byl Tamburašský kroužek. Utvořil se roku 1919 a sdružoval převážně mládež. Hrával k pobavení na různých besíd-kách, večírcích, k loutkovým představením a případně doprovázel zpěv při vycházkách. Olomoucký Orel prováděl příležitostně operety nebo hry se zpěvy, např. ve spolupráci s olomouckou Cyrilskou jednotou nastudoval divadelní hry s hudbou Stanislava Vrbíka: roku 1929 Sv. Václav Václava Svatohora (Václava Bělohlávka 1870–1967) nebo roku 1933 Hvězda z Lisieux Jeana Subervilla a Františka Odvalila (1880–1938).26 Od roku 1923 pořádal olomoucký Orel, podobně jako Sokol, šibřinky za spoluúčasti pozvané kapely.

Hudební kroužek v počtu čtrnácti členů vznikl roku 1925 v hodolanském Orlu, jeho kapelníkem se stal Josef Černý, místostarosta spolku. V červnu 1925 začal ještě tento kapelník organizovat orelskou dechovou hudbu.27 Ta potom doprovázela první veřejné cvičení hodolanského Orla 9. srpna 1925, které se stalo velkolepou orelskou manifestací za účasti členů okolních orelských jednot.28 O další existenci kapely se zatím nepodařilo najít zprávy.

Německé obyvatelstvo se sdružovalo v tělocvičných spolcích pod názvem Turnverein. V Olomouci existovalo několik těchto spolků, nejstarší v Olomouci městě – od roku 1862, k němuž postupně přibyly: Turnverein v Pavlovičkách (1907), Nových Sadech (1912), Povlu a na Nové Ulici (1913), v Neředíně a na Novém Světě (1923).

Členové těchto spolků se věnovali vedle cvičení zejména zpěvu německých lidových písní, nacvičování předvádění německých lidových tanců a také divadelnictví. Z hudebních souborů se v olomouckém Turnvereinu utvořil malý orchestr a také mandolínový soubor, také v Pavlovicích si členové Turnvereinu sestavili pod vedením Willi Pöllmanna a posléze Rudolfa Polzera „domácí kapelu“, podobně jako v Turnvereinu v Nových Sadech. Tyto soubory vystupovaly na různých zábavách, oslavách a spolkových večírcích. Patrně nejo-kázaleji si vedl při svých akcích olomoucký Turnverein. Začínaly na podzim – v říjnu se slavil německý Kirmes – posvícení, začátkem prosince Pelzmärtelfest (pojil se svátkem sv. Mikuláše 6. prosince), před vánocemi Julfeier, následovala oslava Silvestra (31. prosinec), koncem ledna nebo začátkem února maškarní nebo domácí ples, příp. Fastnachtsabend (Fasching), příp. Bunter Abend na závěr masopustu a okolo 21. června slavnost slunovratu – Sonnenwendfeier. Kromě tělocvičných ukázek a tanečních čísel zpestřovala program vys-toupení hudebníků, zpěváků, recitace, části divadelních her a humorné scénky. Účinkovali na nich jak místní členové, tak členové okolních Turnvereinů, hosté, např. olomoucký

25 Efes, „Hudební beseda v Lidovém domě,“ Našinec, 11. dubna 1923, 4.26 Divadelní hru Hvězda z Lisieux reprízoval Orel v letech 1932–1933 nejen v Olomouci, ale i v Kostelci

na Hané, Přerově, Předmostí, Prostějově, Štěpánově a ještě roku 1934 v Moravské Ostravě a Místku.27 „Z Jednoty Orla v Hodolanech,“ Našinec, 7. června 1925, 5.28 „I. veřejné cvičení Orla v Hodolanech,“ Našinec, 12. srpna 1925, 5.

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Volksgesangverein, Männergesangverein nebo sólisté, např. významná altistka Gertrude Pitzinger (ve dvacátých letech 20. století).29 Turnverein pořádal také občas zábavné večery (Unterhaltungsabend), např. 7. května 1927 při této příležitosti sehráli členové Ziehrerovu jednoaktovou operetu Herr und Frau Biedermeier (hráli Max Schönwälder, Irene Mitschka, Mimi Pitzinger, Mizzi Schönerwälder a Viktor Kullil) s doprovodem malého „domácího“ orchestru. Kritika v Mährisches Tagblatt hodnotila provedení těmito slovy: „Die Gesänge, von den Mitwirkenden vorzüglich gebracht, und nicht zuletzt die guten schauspilerischen Leistungen, das alles wirkte zusammen, die Herzen und Gemänter im Nu zu erobern und ritz stürmischen Beifall hin.“30 Na akce těchto německých tělocvičných spolků se sjížděli obyvatelé z tzv. německého jazykového ostrova, do něhož patřily Nové Sady, Nová Ulice, Neředín, Nedvězí, Hněvotín, Slavonín, Kyselov, Nemilany, Povel a částečně Pavlovičky i Olomouc.

Na základě uvedeného nástinu hudební činnosti hlavních olomouckých tělocvičných spolků se nabízí řada otázek. Jaký přínos měly tyto spolky ke kulturnímu životu tehdejší Olomouce? Jaká byla úroveň pěveckých sborů a instrumentálních ansámblů a jak je hod-notila dobová kritika? Odrážela se v působnosti spolků národnost jejich členů? Jaké vztahy měly tyto spolky mezi sebou? Je hudební dění v olomouckých tělocvičných spolcích srovnatelné s jinými lokalitami?

Pěvecké kroužky se vytvořily v českých olomouckých spolcích Sokol a Orel. Chápaly zpěv jako součást společenského života a pokračovaly v tzv. tradičním typu pěveckého sboru na rozdíl od koncertního typu sborového zpěvu, reprezentovaného např. učitelskými pěveckými tělesy. Pohnutkou pro vznik či poválečnou obnovu tělocvičných pěveckých kroužků se stával nejen zájem členů o společný zpěv, ale přispívalo k tomu i nadšení vyvo-lané vznikem samostatného Československa. Z hudebního hlediska u pěvců dostačovalo základní tonální a harmonické cítění a určité intonační schopnosti. Hlasové složení sboru a jeho zvuková vyrovnanost byla druhořadou záležitostí.

Některé vyspělejší pěvecké kroužky a sbory českých tělocvičných jednot se stávaly kon-kurencí pro pěvecké, což nelibě nesla Pěvecká obec československá (POČ). Snažila se, aby sborový zpěv zůstal doménou jen pěveckých spolků. Československá obec sokolská jednala s POČ a následně roku 1922 přijala usnesení, aby v sokolských jednotách členové pěstovali pouze jednohlasý zpěv, a to jen při akcích pořádaných tímto spolkem. 31 I když usnesení se striktně nedodržovalo, přispělo možná k tomu, proč se zpěv v olomouckých spolcích příliš nerozvíjel. Přínos olomouckých tělocvičných pěveckých sborů se omezoval nejčastěji na spolkové akce v místě působení. V repertoáru měly skladby českých skladatelů a je-jich interpretační úroveň byla pravděpodobně průměrná. Podobná situace bývala i v řadě dalších sokolských jednot, úroveň sborového zpěvu závisela na schopnostech sbormistra a zpěváků. Na druhé straně k reprezentativním tělocvičným pěveckým sborům patřilo např. na Moravě Sokolské pěvecké sdružení v Ostravě (v letech 1921–1951) pod vedením

29 Podrobnější zprávy nalezneme v olomouckém deníku Mährisches Tagblatt z let 1918–1939.30 „Unterhaltungsabend des Olmützer Turnvereines,“ Mährisches Tagblatt, 11. května 1927, 3.31 Evžen Valový, Sborový zpěv v Čechách a na Moravě (Brno 1972), 159–160.

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Eduarda Runda a Františka Míti Hradila (od roku 1926), Pěvecký sbor Sokola Brno zej-ména ve třicátých letech 20. století se sbormistrem Bohumírem Štědroněm a do určité míry po první světové válce i stočlenný sokolský pěvecký sbor v Boskovicích pod vedením učitele Františka Lindy (v letech 1913–1934). Německé olomoucké tělocvičné spolky pěvecké kroužky nevytvořily, zvaly si na své akce k účinkování německé pěvecké spolky místní nebo z blízkého okolí.

Hudební kroužky a orchestry uvedených tělocvičných spolků mívaly většinou menší počet členů. K reprezentativnějším patřila olomoucká sokolská hudba pod vedením L. Černohorského a Jaňourova olomoucká orelská hudba. Tyto orchestry si mohly do-volit pořádat i samostatné koncerty a možná se do určité míry snažily vyrovnat např. olomouckým vojenským kapelám. Ostatní menší uskupení sloužila k zábavním spolkovým akcím jak v českém Sokolu a Orlu, tak německém Turnvereinu. Tyto ansámbly poskyto-valy také instrumentální doprovody zpěvoher. Divadelní představení tohoto druhu měla za úkol především pobavit obyvatele a v řadě případů pomáhala k získávání fi nančních prostředků pro různé spolkové investice (např. opravy a stavby tělocvičen). V této ob-lasti určité ambice projevoval chválkovický Sokol a olomoucký Orel, který měl přitom v souvislosti s náboženskými tématy na zřeteli vzdělávání a zušlechťování svých členů. Na významnější akce si spolky zvaly olomoucké kapely – české spolky např. Vrátného a Černého, německé Winterovu a Adlerovu. Ve srovnání s jinými lokalitami byla situace v tělocvičných spolcích obdobná. Tam, kde spolek disponoval schopnými hudebníky, utvořil se menší či větší instrumentální ansámbl. K reprezentativním orchestrům patřila např. Hudba pražského Sokola žižkovského s kapelníkem Arnoštem Hermannem nebo Sokolská fi lharmonie pod vedením Oty Kosa (v letech 1920–1938) v Hradci Králové. Z menších měst lze uvést např. Třebíč se sokolskou dechovou kapelou, jež se na konci třicátých let rozrostla pod vedením Františka Vaignera na padesát hráčů a stala se tehdy největším sokolským dechovým tělesem. Větší orelské kapely, jež vznikly např. ve Žďáru nad Sázavou a Příboře, neměly v rámci spolku dlouhého trvání a osamostatnily se, naopak Orelská dechová kapela v moravském Novém Hrozenkově existovala po celé meziválečné období (s dirigenty Františkem Jochcem-Rakošem a posléze Cyrilem Vaškem).

Na různých večírcích těchto tělocvičných spolků vystupovali jako sólisté místní nebo pozvaní zpěváci a hudebníci. Jejich program mohl být různorodý, jak z hlediska kvality interpretace, tak obsahu. Prováděly se nejen závažnější skladby, ale i humorné kuplety, scénky k pobavení publika (např. při silvestrovských večírcích), což bývalo v tomto typu spolků obvyklé.

Z hlediska národnostního tyto akce sloužily rovněž k prohlubování a utvrzování národního vědomí – v českých spolcích přirozeně českého, u německých spolků ně-mec kého. Z tohoto důvodu věnovaly spolky také pozornost národním zvykům, např. olomoucký Sokol pořádal „moravsky hode“ (v letech 1921–1923) nebo černovírský Sokol uskutečnil hanácké národní slavnosti (1924, 1925 a 1931), „moravsky hode“ (1934, 1937) a hanácký den (1935). Sokolství v první republice se v podstatě ztotožňovalo s jejími idejemi a podmínkou pro členství se stala česká nebo jiná slovanská národnost. Orel své vlastenectví spojoval s křesťanskou vírou, s katolickou církví a projevoval se např.

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v rámci svatováclavských akademií, při různých církevních slavnostech (krojované průvody na svátek Božího Těla), příp. při slavnostech lidových. Turnverein podmiňoval členství německou národností. Organizoval každoročně okolo 21. června slavnost slunovratu – Sonnenwendfeier s odkazem na její germánskou tradici. Chápal tuto akci jako posilu své sounáležitosti, pospolitosti, týkající se ve zdejších podmínkách tzv. německého jazykového ostrova. Např. roku 1929 Mährisches Tagblatt uvedl: „Ueberall wo Deutsche wohnen, scharen sich am Sonnwendtage unsere Volksgenossen um den brennenden Holzstoß, um in der Erinnerung an ihre Urväter ihr Gemeinsamkeitsgefühl zu stärken, um Hoff nung, Glaube und Zuversicht auf bessere Tage zu schöpfen“32 nebo roku 1930 na této slavnosti byli shromáždění účastníci vyzýváni, aby: „[…] sich nicht mehr Abseits zu stellen in der Arbeit für das deutsche Volk.“33

Tyto tři spolky se určitým způsobem respektovaly, ale nespolupracovaly, jejich vzájem-ný postoj byl velmi rezervovaný a vykazoval i negativní tendence.34 Olomoucké deníky podle svého zaměření kladně a pochvalně hodnotily akce „svých“ spřízněných spolků a jen občas taktně vytýkaly určité jejich nedostatky. Česky nacionálně zaměřený Pozor přinášel zprávy o Sokolu, katolicky orientovaný Našinec mapoval činnost orelských jednot a německý, národnostně umírněný Mährisches Tagblatt se věnoval činnosti Turnvereinu. Vzájemné kritiky spolků v uvedených českých denících se nesly poněkud v jiném du-chu. Např. I. veřejné cvičení Orla v Hodolanech 9. srpna 1925 hodnotil olomoucký deník Našinec takto: „Průběh cvičení za účinkování orelské kapely byl povznášející“,35 a „Odpolední průvod ulicemi Hodolan mohutným proudem krojovaných příslušníků orels-kých překvapil […]“,36 kdežto olomoucký Pozor oproti tomu konstatoval, že: „[…] [orelská kapela] hrála tak mizerně, že jejich vlastní příslušníci to kritizovali“37 a orelský průvod byl „příliš ubohý“.38 Našinec v tomtéž roce uveřejnil na adresu Sokola v Chválkovicích, že: „Kdyby nebylo katolíků a katolických peněz, dnes chválkovická sokolovna by nestála. Dnešní sokolstvo katolicismu vypovědělo boj na život a na smrt a na druhé straně se nestydí z katolíků těžiti“.39 Mährisches Tagblatt se českým tělocvičným spolkům téměř nevěnoval, avšak vychvaloval dění v Turnvereinu např. tímto způsobem: „Es ist natürlich

32 „Sonnenwende – Sonnenwendfeier,“ Mährisches Tagblatt, 20. června 1929, 4.33 „Sonnenwendfeier des Olmützer Turnvereins,“ Mährisches Tagblatt, 23. června 1930, 2.34 Např. olomoucký Sokol vlastnil a patrně i zpíval jednohlasé Sokolské písně Karla Pospíšila na slova

Jaroslava Naumana, které vydala Česká obec sokolská (nedatováno). Součástí tohoto zpěvníku je píseň Sokol a Orel, v níž se mj. na adresu Orla zpívá: „Orel. jenž nesvár vsil, nám dávno krev už pil! A jsme-li přece celí, čas bychom spláceli. Hoj, Sokole, tvůj vzlet nechť zažene ho zpět a ukaž všemu světu, kdo ti roven v letu? Jen bij a lam a drol a zažeň do Tyrol ty ,orly’, tam kam patří! K práci vzhůru bratři!“.

35 „I. veřejné cvičení Orla v Hodolanech,“ Našinec, 12. srpna 1925, 5.36 Tamtéž.37 „O průběhu orelské slavnosti v Hodolanech,“ Pozor, 15. srpna 1925, 5.38 Tamtéž.39 „Chválkovičtí Orli nejsou vlastenci,“ Našinec, 18. března 1925, 5.

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nicht möglich, aus der reichhaltigen Vortragsfolge alle Einzelheiten ausführlich zu wür-digen, es soll daher vorweg betont werden, daß alle Damen und Herren, die sich in den Dienst des Selingens des Pelzmärtelfestes gestellt haben, restlos und mit großem Erfolg ihrer Ausgabe nachgekommen sind“.40 Důležitou roli tedy hrála názorová a národnostní východiska spolků, která zviditelňovaly svými kulturními akcemi. Ty se těšily zpravidla vel-kému zájmu členstva a spolkových příznivců. Vybudované tělocvičny se sálem a jevištěm (sokolovny, orlovny nebo německé Turnhallen) se staly nejen místy pro pravidelná cvičení, ale stávaly se i určitými kulturními centry. Tím, že poskytovaly prostor pro vlastní amaté-rské muzicírování svých členů, rozvíjely současně jejich hudebnost a zachovávaly kontinu-itu provádění hudby, důležitou zejména na předměstích Olomouce. Význam pro hudební život Olomouce spočíval u těchto člensky početných spolků v jejich vlivu na širší vrstvy obyvatel různých profesí a přispíval k jejich kulturnímu vyžití.

Music and Singing in Olomouc Gymnastic Societies between 1918 and 1939

Abstract

The study deals with performed music and singing within gymnastics clubs in Olomouc, i.e. Sokol, Orel, and Turnverein during the above mentioned period between the wars: 1918–1939. The clubs ranked among the most active in that branch. Their members de-voted themselves, besides physical exercises, to playing theatre, or created instrumental ensembles. The clubs organized various celebrations, parties, and balls where their mem-bers took part, or some invited musicians and singers performed. The musical accompani-ment could have been heard during public exercising, or, within the frame of exercising lessons, trainees were singing to march. Thanks to the clubs’ providing the opportunity of the amateur music making by their own members, their musicality was developed and that contributed to their cultural experience. That kind of activity infl uenced larger public of various professions and helped with preserving of the music performed mainly in the Olomouc suburbs.

Hudba a zpěv v olomouckých tělocvičných spolcích v letech 1918–1939

Abstrakt

Text studie pojednává o hudbě prováděné v olomouckých tělocvičných spolcích Sokol, Orel a Turnverein v meziválečném období let 1918–1939. Uvedené spolky patřily tehdy v této oblasti z olomouckých tělocvičných spolků k hudebně nejaktivnějším. Jejich členové se věnovali vedle cvičení hraní divadla, zpěvu nebo vytvářeli instrumentální ansámbly.

40 „Pelzmärtelfest des Olmützer Turnvereins,“ Mährisches Tagblatt, 9. prosince 1929, 4.

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Hudební doprovod zazníval i při veřejných cvičeních nebo v rámci tělocvičných hodin cvičenci zpívali k pochodování. Tím, že spolky poskytovaly prostor pro vlastní amatérské muzicírování svých členů, rozvíjely současně jejich hudebnost a přispívaly k jejich kul-turnímu vyžití. Tato činnost tělocvičných spolků měla vliv na širší vrstvy obyvatel různých profesí a přispívala k zachování kontinuity prováděné hudby, zejména na předměstích Olomouce.

Keywords

Gymnastic Societies; Sokol; Orel; Turnverein; 1918–1939; Olomouc.

Klíčová slova

Tělocvičné spolky; Sokol; Orel; Turnverein; 1918–1939; Olomouc.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Reviews/Recenze

Leslie Bunt – Stige Brynjulf, Music Therapy: An Art beyond Words, 2nd ed., London: Routledge, 2014, 256 pages.

Yue Lu

This book is a comprehensive introduction of current practice on music therapy. The fi rst edition of this book was published in 1994 wrote by Leslie Bunt. After 20 years, profes-sor Stige joined the writing as a coauthor to complete the second edition with professor Bunt. With a new partnership between Bunt and Stige, they explored and debated their shared values about music therapy and established some core themes in this new edition. Compared with some statements of the fi rst edition of this book, the author still thinks “music therapy is a relatively new profession” and “music’s availability creates new pos-sibilities for music therapy but also new responsibilities” in contemporary society. In the following writing, authors did not privilege any one specifi c approach to music therapy practice but were conscious of wanting to include more cultural and social aspects.

According to authors’ words, this book is for all those who are interested in this pro-fession and discipline. The fi rst chapter reviews the emergence and similar development of music therapy in UK and US, then discusses paths of development in contemporary music therapy. It is emphasized that each defi nition has own features and development according to their own musical and cultural histories and particular patterns of care. The second chapter describes two examples and lead reader to think about music therapy through seven current perspectives: medical, behavioural, psychodynamic, humanistic, transpersonal, culture-centred and music-centred. Authors do want readers to note that each perspective has own major strength and “the theoretical perspectives might diff er in how the relationships between theory and practice are construed”. It also introduces some theories that inform music therapy, which were developed or edited by Ruud and Bruscia. The third chapter explores how we use music for a range of purposes. Basic sound elements such as timbre, pitch, loudness, duration, silence, rhythm, melody, harmony

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and their relationships with activities are discussed. For instance, “loud playing could indicate a release of physical tension or a desire to communicate aggressive and frustrated feelings”.

From the fourth to the seventh chapter, music therapy practices are presented from a lifespan perspective in the sequential contexts of child health, adolescent health, adult health and older adult health. Authors provide brief overviews in these 4 chapters of how children, adolescents, adults and older adults respond to and make use of music. A number of diff erent approaches to practice and research of music therapy are off ered as well. Diff ering from the descriptive logic of other of these four chapters, the fi fth chapter describes an interview with perspectives of the client and the therapist to present rese-arching experiences and eff ects after an elaboration in some detail of the music therapy process of Gregorio. This let readers to gain a deeper understanding of how the processes of music therapy using qualitative approaches to research.

The eighth chapter off ers an example to let readers thinking the identity of the music therapist as a professional. Two fi gures are presented here, one of the possible roles music therapist could play and another of how the profession might best fulfi l its purpose in soci-ety. The last chapter starts with a Greek myth to illuminate tensions music therapists face in their work. “Like Orpheus, music therapists are struggling with tensions and opposites that at times seem impossible to unite. Like Orpheus, music therapists will experience that the struggle involves risks.” After the description of tensions and contradictions of this discipline, the evidence-based practice debate and challenges of representation are discussed. Authors present their point of views to the development of the discipline of music therapy as well. Finally, in the epilogue, authors speculate on “whether music therapy can be justifi ably described as ‘an art beyond words’ ”.

This book gives an overview of the theory and practice of music therapy with various stages of a lifespan and diff erent contexts as well. As authors said that “we view practice as central, and present a range of as many case narratives as possible”, this book de-scribes a number of detailed examples to off er various perspectives for practitioner and researcher. This is the book not only about music therapy but also to explore deeply the relationship between music and human society. There are collections and comments of several prominent outcomes in specifi c areas such as McFerran’s book of the practice of music therapy with adolescent. I found other interesting theories and researches: at-tachment theory, the concept of “communicative musicality”, Irvin Yalom’s description of “curative factors” and so on. The signifi cant inspirations for me this book off ered are:

“Music is often part of interpersonal and socio-cultural confl icts. Music therapists must go beyond the naïve assumption that music in and of itself leads to confl ict resolution.”

“The discourse should focus not only on music as a practical tool for health enhancement but also on human rights issues such as inclusion, participation and social justice.”

Additionally, this book will be interesting for people who tend to explore the relation-ship between music and social life.

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Viktor Velek, Lumír 150: sbormistři českoslovanského zpěváckého spolku „Lumír“ ve Vídni, Třebíč: Apis Press, 564 stran.

Ingrid Silná

Pěvecké spolky tvořily a dosud tvoří důležitou součást hudebního života společnosti. Jejich spontánní a hromadný vznik i následný rozvoj započal v rámci Rakousko-Uherska v šedesátých letech 19. století v souvislosti s Říjnovým diplomem císaře Františka Josefa I. z roku 1860. U českého obyvatelstva se spojoval s národním sebeuvědomováním, s touhou po společenské aktivitě a tvořivé činnosti. Pokud působil spolek mimo území Čech, snažil se nejen pěstovat a šířit českou hudbu, ale pečovat i o krajanskou společenskou pospoli-tost. Ve Vídni žila početná česká menšina, např. při sčítání obyvatelstva v roce 1900 se přihlásilo přes 100 tisíc osob, které užívaly češtinu jako svého „obcovacího jazyka“, ovšem skutečný počet Čechů se odhaduje přibližně na 300 tisíc. Zpěvácké spolky tedy nevznikaly jen ze snah pouze uměleckých. Řada jich během doby z různých důvodů zanikla, některé si však udržely kontinuitu až do dnešních dnů. K těm se řadí i původně řemeslnický zpěvácký spolek vídeňských Čechů Lumír, který se může pochlubit sto-padesátiletou tradicí. Tento spolek, jehož stručnou historii autor v knize zpracoval, prošel nejen obdobím rozkvětu, kdy podnikal koncertní cesty a vystupoval na pěveckých festi-valech v Praze a v Československém rozhlase, ale i obdobím stagnace, zejména v letech 1948–1989, kdy byly postupně zpřetrhány vazby vídeňských Čechů s obyvateli tehdejšího socialistického Československa. Repertoár pěveckého sboru tvořily skladby převážně českých autorů, např. Arnošta Förchgotta-Tovačovského, Bedřicha Smetany, Antonína Dvořáka, Vítězslava Nováka, Josefa Suka nebo Josefa Bohuslava Foerstera.

Činnost Lumíru se podařilo v nedávné době oživit díky předsedovi spolku Pavlu Koutníkovi a sbormistru Johannesu Georgu Schwarzovi tak, že pěvecký sbor začal znovu roku 2013 veřejně vystupovat. Muzikolog a archivář spolku Viktor Velek věnoval ovšem stěžejní část své publikace sbormistrům, jichž se vystřídalo za celou dobu existence pěveckého sboru dvacet tři; patří k nim např. Konstantin Alois Jahoda-Křtinský, Robert Volánek, Josef Ferdinand Skalický, Jaromír Herle, Bohuslav Karel Čumpelík, Zdeněk Cón a další. Kapitoly o nich jsou pojaty monografi cky; pojednávají o jejich životních osudech, činnosti, a pokud se věnovali komponování, je uveden i přehled jejich děl, včetně údajů o tom, kde se tyto opusy nacházejí. U některých z nich autor uvedl i notové incipity skladeb. Velek zde mapuje nejen působení sbormistrů v rámci vídeňského Lumíru, ale i jejich další činnost mimo spolek, životní osudy, takže kniha tím nabývá rozměru hudebně lexikografi ckého. Autor o nich píše objektivně a kriticky, čímž odkrývá pozadí vzájemných vztahů některých sbormistrů a příčiny občasných neshod ve spolku. V této souvislosti je vhodné poznamenat, že tyto kapitoly jsou doplněny autentickými citacemi z cenných soukromých pramenů, mj. zapůjčených i od potomků některých sbormistrů.

Tato kniha je zároveň almanachem spolku k 150. výročí jeho trvání a v podstatě spe-cifi ckou kronikou české Vídně. V tomto ohledu byl autorovi určitým vzorem sborník 70 let Lumíru ve Vídni vydaný roku 1935 ve Vídni. Je uspořádán také chronologicky, ovšem

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s tím rozdílem, že popisuje po několika vzpomínkách členů spolku Lumír jeho činnost rok po roce. Důležitý doplněk publikace V. Velka tvoří unikátní doprovodný obrazový materiál (programy koncertů, rukopisy, fotografi e sboru) včetně portrétů sbormistrů. Na tomto místě je nutné vyzvednout autorovu podrobnou a pečlivou práci s cennými dobovými prameny českými i německými, které nashromáždil. V současnosti tvoří tyto historické dokumenty Hudební archiv „Česká Vídeň“, uložený ve Výzkumném centru pro histo-rické menšiny. Předností knihy je její dvojjazyčná česko-německá koncepce (levý sloupec v českém jazyce, pravý v německém), jež nabízí knihu většímu okruhu čtenářů. Publikace svým rozsahem a zpracováním zaplňuje nejedno „bílé místo“ v hudební historii Čechů ve Vídni, na druhé straně poskytuje další podněty k výzkumu rozsáhlé a nepochybně zajímavé česko-vídeňské kultury.

Martin Flašar, Poème électronique (1958): Le Corbusier, E. Varèse, I. Xenakis, Brno: Masarykova Univerzita, 2012, 162 stran.

Michal Slováček

Alespoň z hlediska teoretické refl exe začala tzv. elektronika poprvé vstupovat do hudby již v 18. století. V následujícím století se tak dělo ojediněle na experimentální bázi. K hluboké integraci elektroniky a hudby došlo ve století dvacátém, kdy obě sféry splynuly v organické a dialektické jednotě. Jedním z milníků tohoto vývoje je bezpochyby multimediální dílo Poème électroniqe, vytvořené pro pavilon Philips na výstavě Expo 58 v Bruselu. Uvedená kompozice, zejména pak její hudební složka, jejímž autorem byl avantgardní skladatel Edgar Varès, se stala hlavním předmětem zájmu stejnojmenné knihy brněnského muzi-kologa Martina Flašara.

Stav pramenů a literatury k dílu Poème électroniqe příliš neodpovídá faktu, že skladba dosáhla statusu výjimečnosti již v době svého vzniku v padesátých letech. V tomto směru Flašar pracuje rovněž na úrovni tzv. archeologie multimédií, tedy relativně nového oboru, u něhož lze předpokládat plný rozvoj metodologie teprve v budoucnu. Zde je rovněž nutno připomenout, že k naplnění ambicí komplexní analýzy či přímo restaurace mul-timediálního díla tohoto typu nelze v zásadě dospět jinak než týmovým mezioborovým projektem.

Vzhledem k disciplinárnímu východisku autora je nasnadě, že publikace refl ektuje především hudební složku. Přesto se nevyhnutelně věnuje i problematice ostatních odvět-ví, tedy v tomto případě architektuře a video projekci. Poměrně velkou část (z textového hlediska většinu) knihy pokrývá metodologická rozprava a zejména pojednání o třech hlavních autorech celého projektu (Le Corbusier, Verèse, Xenakis). Pro ucelenou před-stavu o díle a době jeho vzniku je to jistě jedině dobře, jenom je škoda, že se tím omezuje prostor pro rozbor samotné skladby.

Záležitost, s níž se lze v celé publikaci a zejména v oddílech věnovaných jednotlivým tvůrcům setkat a která může činit při četní potíže je ponechání některých citátů (a to

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i delších pasáží) v původním znění bez překladu (byť třeba pouze orientačního od sa-motného autora v poznámkách pod čarou). Přestože se jedná o odborný text, nelze se vyloženě spoléhat, že čtenář bude disponovat dostatečnými jazykovými dovednostmi. Navíc některé citáty jsou zase pro změnu vyňaty z českých, případně slovenských publi-kací a zde je zase použit překlad z dané publikace, bez uvedení originálního znění. Tím vyvstává problém opačný, totiž do jaké míry překlad ovlivnil samotnou citovanou pasáž.

Autor k celému dílu přistupuje zejména z hlediska fi losofi ckého a estetického, které je rozebráno důsledně. Velmi dobře je zhodnoceno samotné postavení autorů v dobovém kontextu a stejně tak i jejich způsob uvažování, případně myšlenky a díla jiných, které na ně a jejich tvorbu měly nezanedbatelný vliv. Zejména v tomto lze spatřovat silnou stránku celé publikace, tedy především onen fi losofi cko-estetický základ projektu Poème électroniqe a jejích autorů.

Naopak co práce spíše postrádá je techničtější pojetí, které by v tomto případě nemu-selo být nutně na škodu. Zvláště v případě děl elektroakustické hudby, a zejména v jejich počátcích, byla technika při kompozičním procesu hlavním limitem a zároveň oním pro-středníkem pro “objevování nového“, tudíž je v takových případech zřejmě záhodno vědět nejen z jakých estetických ideálů autoři vychází, ale jaké prostředky měli pro svou realizaci k dispozici. Tím lze i lépe vyhodnotit, nakolik je určitý aspekt kompozice podmíněn sku-tečně estetickým smýšlením, nebo naopak ústupkem estetickému ideálu kvůli limitování technikou, či snad čistou manýrou danou nově objevenou technologickou možností. Autor se zaměřuje především na samotnou reprodukci díla a případné technické zázemí vzta-huje až k samotnému výstavnímu pavilonu. Méně se ale soustředí na samotnou produkci zvukového materiálu. Dobře je rozebrána samotná problematika vyznění díla, potýkání se autorů s prostorovou akustikou, samotné rozdělení zvuků do jednotlivých kanálů v pa-vilonu, problematika synchronizace s vizuální složkou díla, tedy celková souhra všech tří hlavních složek, aby tak vše působilo komplexně. Jak autor uvádí, i k této problematice není dochováno příliš materiálů. Nicméně právě záležitosti týkající se produkce díla lze mnohdy odvodit dobou a místem vzniku (tedy instrumentářem konkrétního studia). Zvláště v případě starších děl tohoto typu, kdy jednotlivých zařízení pro např. umělé generování zvuků a jejich procesování bylo poměrně omezené množství. To zase naopak mělo za následek, že k využívání těchto prostředků byly voleny kreativnější metody, které tak dotváří výslednou podobu díla. Kterak Martin Flašar upozorňuje, v samotné Poème se potom pracuje jak přístupem konkrétní hudby (tedy používání zaznamenaného mate-riálu z okolního prostředí), tak se samotným generováním nových zvuků pomocí syntézy zvuku. V některých případech je samozřejmě těžké odlišit čistě poslechem, zda konkrétní zvuk je původem syntetický, či má svůj základ v reálném prostředí. Přitom právě alespoň zevrubná znalost použitých prostředků by jistě prospěla, zejména v části věnující se ana-lýze díla. Autor publikace mnohdy operuje pouze s tím, co slyší, což může být mnohdy ošidné – např. v tabulce, kde se pokouší identifi kovat zvukové objekty, se můžeme dočíst, že kompozice začíná hlubokými údery zvonů, přičemž z osobní poslechové zkušenosti bych nevylučoval, že tento témbr mohl být též získán právě syntetickou cestou, jelikož dobová technologie již podobnou zvukovou charakteristiku dokázala generovat a tím by

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zřejmě i z produkčního hlediska bylo snazší volit tento postup, než se pokoušet kvalitně nasnímat skutečné údery zvonů. Bohužel i další terminologie použitá ve zmíněné tabul-ce (např. hluboký bzukot, vysoké hvízdání) nejsou dostatečné pro samotnou deskripci barvy zvuku a možná zbytečně se tak autor dostává na rovinu vlastních dojmů a pocitů z audiozáznamu díla, což nemusí být nutně na škodu, nicméně už samotná forma tabulky spíše inklinuje k užití exaktnější terminologie, která zde trochu chybí.

Naopak pro potřeby analýzy elektroakustické kompozice je zde metodologicky zcela správně použita analýza pomocí spektrografu. Díky této analýze se autor domnívá, že z hlediska práce s časem je pro dílo signifi kantní dělení na sekundy, případně větší bloky, opět v násobcích této časové jednotky. To se jeví jako logické pro lepší synchronizaci s vizuální složkou. Nicméně určité připomínky lze vznést i k této části. V příloze je uveden celý spektrogram kompozice i s barevnou škálou jednotlivých hlasitostí, kdy ale nejhlasitější pasáže odpovídají zhruba hodnotě –50 dB, což dává ještě dost velkou rezer-vu. Poème byla navíc tvořena výhradně analogově, tudíž dynamický rámec v digitálním prostředí lze potom pojmout jako relativní a naopak snažit se přiblížit nejhlasitější části kompozice co nejblíže pod hranicí nuly – tím je možné, že by se na výsledném obrazu promítly i zvukové hladiny při stávajícím nastavení nerozpoznané.

Další technická připomínka k nastavení je, že z hlediska výšky zvuků je spektrograf rozdělen lineárně po hodnotách 2 kHz. Tím vznikne obrovský prostor pro frekvence 2 až 16 kHz. Jak sám autor uvádí, svrchní limit nastavil vzhledem k možnostem lidského ucha. Ovšem zřejmě je opomenuta skutečnost, že lidské ucho nevnímá výšky tónů lineárně. Tedy pro lepší představu čtenáře nezběhlého v této problematice, již samotná výška 2 kHz odpovídá zhruba poloze tónu c‘‘‘. Uznejme, že většina hudby (i té avantgardní) se přece jen děje pod touto výškou. Naopak celou polovinu vertikální části grafu potom zabírá pouze jedna již stěží slyšitelná oktáva v 8 až 16 kHz. Toto nepříliš šťastné nastavení potom může při pohledu na grafi ku u neznalých vyvolávat dojem, že se celá kompozice pohybuje někde v hlubinách. Co je ale zásadnější, že pokus o vlastní analýzu díla z uvedeného materiálu je téměř nemožný, neboť právě pro spektrum, kde by bylo možno zaznamenat největší děj je tak vymezeno velmi málo prostoru, ze kterého nelze prakticky nic vyčíst.

Další aspekt, který je mnohdy dobře čitelný při spektrografi cké analýze, je práce s magnetofonovým pásem. Při větším přiblížení by tak bylo možno zjistit, např. zda Varèse pás stříhal kolmo, nebo používal crossfade, případně další technické aspekty kompozice, nicméně to zřejmě nejsou hlavní zájmy autora recenzovaného textu. Je tedy pouze škoda, že tak není využito potenciálu této analytické metody, se kterou dnešní muzikologie začíná pomalu pracovat (byť právě v mnoha případech ne příliš obratně, neb pro správné užití je třeba znát její specifi ka).

Po těchto výtkách se může zdát, že hodnocení této publikace je spíše negativní, což ale není rozhodně pravda. Spíše je zde snahou upozornit na případné možné další po-stupy a přístupy k dané problematice. Ostatně se pořád jedná o dosud první ucelenější pojednání inkriminovaného tématu (z větší části) v češtině, čili ani onomu více huma-nitně zaměřenému přístupu nelze nic vytýkat a možná právě pro mnohé čtenáře i z řad odborné veřejnosti tím bude text přístupnější. Zároveň tím je snahou zde upozornit na to,

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co v recenzované publikaci nehledat. Po všech stránkách text splňuje všechny podmínky současné vědecké publikace, která bezesporu má své místo a lze se domnívat, že na toto, případně obdobná historická multimediální témata ještě v budoucnu vznikne mnoho prací. V případě, že by se někdo v tuzemsku chtěl této konkrétní problematice věnovat, možná by stálo za zvážení, zda nevyhledat místní žijící pamětníky, kteří pavilon navštívili a pokusit se tak uchovat v nějaké podobě vzpomínky, tedy vlastně dobovou refl exi díla i s případným časovým odstupem. Díky skutečnosti, že Československo na tehdejší výstavě bylo přítomno (autor publikace zmiňuje obligátní Laternu magiku, ovšem náš pavilon tehdy přispěl též svým dílem k elektrifi kaci hudby, neb se zde vystavovali u nás první sériově vyráběné elektrofonické hudební nástroje, což je ale jiná historie), je tak možné, že se pořád i u nás nacházejí pamětníci z řad bývalých návštěvníků pavilonu a tak je tedy zřejmě pomalu poslední možnost tyto lidi oslovit, zatímco archivy a knihovny i s jejich obsahy, doufejme, vydrží o něco déle.

Celkové hodnocení recenzované publikace je tedy pozitivní a lze ji především doporu-čit zájemcům o problematiku života a díla autorů, stejně tak jejich podnětů k tvorbě a tedy celkového zasazení Poème électroniqe do kontextu doby v rovině estetického uvažování. Naopak čtenáře bažící po technických detailech díla je nutno spíše odkázat na jiné texty, případně studium pramenů, což ostatně může vyústit k další neméně zajímavé publikaci.

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Musicologica Olomucensia 23 – June 2016

Contributors/Autoři

Katarzyna BABULEWICZJagiellonian University in KrakówInstitute of Musicologyul. Westerplatte 10, 31-033 KrakówPolandklbabulewicz@gmail.com

Charris EFTHIMIOUUniversity of Music and Performing Arts GrazInstitute of Music Theory and CompositionLeonhardgürtel 24/27a 8010 GrazAustriacharis.ef@gmail.com

Greg HURWORTHPalacký University OlomoucDepartment of MusicologyUniverzitní 3, 771 80 OlomoucCzech Republicgreghurworth@gmail.com

Michał JACZYŃSKIJagiellonian University in KrakówInstitute of Musicologyul. Westerplatte 10, 31-033 KrakówPolandmichaljaczynski@ymail.com

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Nors S. JOSEPHSONSilvanerweg 13D-67146 DeidesheimGermanynors.s.josephson@web.de

Pavel KUNČARPalacký University OlomoucDepartment of MusicologyUniverzitní 3, 771 80 OlomoucCzech Republicpavel.kuncar@upol.cz

Ivana MARIJANGoethe University FrankfurtTheodor-W.-Adorno-Platz 1 60323 Frankfurt am MainGermanyivana.marijan@gmx.de

Julian SCHMITZGoethe University FrankfurtTheodor-W.-Adorno-Platz 1 60323 Frankfurt am MainGermanyjulian.schmits@gmx.de

Ingrid SILNÁPalacký University OlomoucDepartment of MusicologyUniverzitní 3, 771 80 OlomoucCzech Republicingrid.silna@upol.cz

SubmissionsMusicologica Olomucensia (Acta Universitatis Palackianae Olomucensis) welcomes contribu-tions in musical-historical and theoretical studies. All submissions will be peer-reviewed. Essays can be sent electronically to musicologicaolomucensia@upol.cz. Essays should conform to the style (notes and biblio graphy), as defi ned by The Manual of Style found at www.musicologicaolomucensia.upol.cz. The editors can assume no responsibility for the loss of manuscripts. Manuscripts may not be submitted elsewhere simultaneously.

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ACTA UNIVERSITATIS PALACKIANAE OLOMUCENSISFACULTAS PHILOSOPHICAPHILOSOPHICA – AESTHETICA 47 – 2016

Musicologica Olomucensia 23 (June 2016)

Editor-in-chief: Lenka KřupkováExecutive editor of Volume 23: Jan BlümlCover: Ivana PerůtkováTechnical editor: Helena Hladišová

PublisherPalacký University, OlomoucKřížkovského 8771 47 OlomoucCzech Republicwww.upol.cz/vup

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