Symphony No. 1 in E minor, Op. 39
Jean Sibelius (1865 – 1957)
Andante, ma non troppo - Allegro energico; Andante (ma non troppo lento); Allegro; Andante - Allegro molto
In 1899 the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius completed his first symphony. Although he was heading for ‘national treasure’ status, Sibelius was still struggling to find his voice in the shadow of Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky and Anton Bruckner, who died in 1893 and 1896 respectively. At that time, Finland was under the heel of Russia, with free speech and the right of assembly suppressed. Before composing this symphony, Sibelius had immersed himself in the Kalevava and other Finnish epics with patriotic zeal. It was the beginning of a journey that led to his becoming the undisputed musical poet of his country and a figurehead for its emerging national identity.
The first movement’s haunting introductory clarinet solo sets a mood rather than provide material for later development. More significant is the quietly sustained accompanying drum roll. This is the first of many long-held notes that permeate the symphony. When the main Allegro energico gets under way, these pedal-points provide a sense of stability underpinning an often agitated surface. The Allegro energico offers two broad and vigorous melodies. Conventionally, one might expect them to play a commanding role later in the movement. Such expectation is thrown off-course by a short dancing phrase on two flutes. Listen out for this because it forms the basis of the meat of the movement, one might say. As in the first movement of his Second Symphony, Sibelius offers his audience apparently loosely-related musical fragments. It is only when it has drawn to a close that listeners grasp the function of these disparate components. Such awareness, probably subconscious rather than analytical, creates a lasting sense of completion and aesthetic satisfaction.
A broad melody opens the slow movement. Once aired, a second theme is entrusted to the bassoons, soon adopted by other woodwind. Further melodies appear, interspersed with those heard already. These lead to a climax and a stormy return of the opening material. As in the first movement, listeners may strive to pin down a recognisable structure. If an overall musical plan is elusive, the movement as a whole, and the wistful ending in particular, reveal unmistakable fingerprints of the mature Sibelius. A note of sad defiance lingers while the music fades to nothing. No wonder the first Finnish audiences connected these moving sonorities to their longing for national expression.
Others have pointed out that the third movement combines the power of Ludwig van Beethoven with the harmonic fingerprints of Anton Bruckner. Like his two predecessors, Sibelius stretched the conventions of scherzo form to their limits while retaining and exploiting two contrasting ideas in a masterly manner. For those familiar with his Second Symphony, this scherzo, like the first two movements, might appear as a test-bed for the later work. In both symphonies, a sense of frantic scampering in the scherzo section lies alongside almost static ruminations of a mysterious and evocative trio section.
The last movement begins with a restatement of the introductory clarinet melody from the first, leading to a new lyrical and impassioned theme. The ‘trade-mark’ orchestral textures, richly layered and dense yet never turgid or laboured, signal a unique voice that has been associated with its creator and with Finland itself ever since. A fugato section follows, over which the woodwind and brass fling out splinters of the Allegro molto. These dominate the final chapter of the symphony, eventually emerging as an anthem-like peroration, creating a moving sense of Finnish patriotism coupled to religious devotion. Finally, three terse chords from brass and woodwind give place to two quiet pizzicato chords on the strings: an abrupt and mysterious conclusion – a question mark rather than a full stop, perhaps?
This symphony makes significant contributions to the broader development of symphonic form in the 20th century. Many composers have incorporated folk music into their works to create a sense of national colour; Antonín Dvořák, Edvard Grieg and Tchaikovsky spring to mind. Sibelius did not draw on existing music in that way, but created textures, melodies, timbres and tonalities which, though entirely his own, came to be regarded as the authentic musical voice of his country. Until his death in 1957, his reputation seemed secure and his symphonies in particular were played and recorded by orchestras worldwide. Soon after his death, most of his music fell from the repertoire, and scholars tended to regard him as an archaic curiosity. More recently, we recognise that he understood the essence of symphonic writing more clearly than many, maybe all of his contemporaries. His symphonies tell no stories, as Hector Berlioz tried to do; they make no appeal to naive emotional responses, as Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov did so blatantly. Above all, they explore what makes a symphony tick. Sibelius found fresh approaches to ‘musical argument’ within a symphonic context, and created music that challenges the intellect while giving voice to regional musical expression.
Jean Sibelius (1865 – 1957)
Andante, ma non troppo - Allegro energico; Andante (ma non troppo lento); Allegro; Andante - Allegro molto
In 1899 the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius completed his first symphony. Although he was heading for ‘national treasure’ status, Sibelius was still struggling to find his voice in the shadow of Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky and Anton Bruckner, who died in 1893 and 1896 respectively. At that time, Finland was under the heel of Russia, with free speech and the right of assembly suppressed. Before composing this symphony, Sibelius had immersed himself in the Kalevava and other Finnish epics with patriotic zeal. It was the beginning of a journey that led to his becoming the undisputed musical poet of his country and a figurehead for its emerging national identity.
The first movement’s haunting introductory clarinet solo sets a mood rather than provide material for later development. More significant is the quietly sustained accompanying drum roll. This is the first of many long-held notes that permeate the symphony. When the main Allegro energico gets under way, these pedal-points provide a sense of stability underpinning an often agitated surface. The Allegro energico offers two broad and vigorous melodies. Conventionally, one might expect them to play a commanding role later in the movement. Such expectation is thrown off-course by a short dancing phrase on two flutes. Listen out for this because it forms the basis of the meat of the movement, one might say. As in the first movement of his Second Symphony, Sibelius offers his audience apparently loosely-related musical fragments. It is only when it has drawn to a close that listeners grasp the function of these disparate components. Such awareness, probably subconscious rather than analytical, creates a lasting sense of completion and aesthetic satisfaction.
A broad melody opens the slow movement. Once aired, a second theme is entrusted to the bassoons, soon adopted by other woodwind. Further melodies appear, interspersed with those heard already. These lead to a climax and a stormy return of the opening material. As in the first movement, listeners may strive to pin down a recognisable structure. If an overall musical plan is elusive, the movement as a whole, and the wistful ending in particular, reveal unmistakable fingerprints of the mature Sibelius. A note of sad defiance lingers while the music fades to nothing. No wonder the first Finnish audiences connected these moving sonorities to their longing for national expression.
Others have pointed out that the third movement combines the power of Ludwig van Beethoven with the harmonic fingerprints of Anton Bruckner. Like his two predecessors, Sibelius stretched the conventions of scherzo form to their limits while retaining and exploiting two contrasting ideas in a masterly manner. For those familiar with his Second Symphony, this scherzo, like the first two movements, might appear as a test-bed for the later work. In both symphonies, a sense of frantic scampering in the scherzo section lies alongside almost static ruminations of a mysterious and evocative trio section.
The last movement begins with a restatement of the introductory clarinet melody from the first, leading to a new lyrical and impassioned theme. The ‘trade-mark’ orchestral textures, richly layered and dense yet never turgid or laboured, signal a unique voice that has been associated with its creator and with Finland itself ever since. A fugato section follows, over which the woodwind and brass fling out splinters of the Allegro molto. These dominate the final chapter of the symphony, eventually emerging as an anthem-like peroration, creating a moving sense of Finnish patriotism coupled to religious devotion. Finally, three terse chords from brass and woodwind give place to two quiet pizzicato chords on the strings: an abrupt and mysterious conclusion – a question mark rather than a full stop, perhaps?
This symphony makes significant contributions to the broader development of symphonic form in the 20th century. Many composers have incorporated folk music into their works to create a sense of national colour; Antonín Dvořák, Edvard Grieg and Tchaikovsky spring to mind. Sibelius did not draw on existing music in that way, but created textures, melodies, timbres and tonalities which, though entirely his own, came to be regarded as the authentic musical voice of his country. Until his death in 1957, his reputation seemed secure and his symphonies in particular were played and recorded by orchestras worldwide. Soon after his death, most of his music fell from the repertoire, and scholars tended to regard him as an archaic curiosity. More recently, we recognise that he understood the essence of symphonic writing more clearly than many, maybe all of his contemporaries. His symphonies tell no stories, as Hector Berlioz tried to do; they make no appeal to naive emotional responses, as Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov did so blatantly. Above all, they explore what makes a symphony tick. Sibelius found fresh approaches to ‘musical argument’ within a symphonic context, and created music that challenges the intellect while giving voice to regional musical expression.