Cambio tecnológico

29 _{Ibid., 307.}

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Although Moody dismisses the role of the synthesizer, stating that its ‘cinematic’ sound effects during the orchestral prelude in the opera (“Starry Night”) ‘fit uncomfortably in the context’,30

the resultant contrast found in its electronic, sustained sonority becomes a tool for identifying the visual. The DX7 is therefore put to subtler, less programmatic, use in Vincentiana than, for example, the wind machine in Vaughan Williams’ Sinfonia Antartica (1952). This is another symphony that grew out of a pre-existing medium, in this case the film score to the 1948 film Scott of the Antarctic and its identity as a symphony has been called into question.31 Whereas the wind machine is a musical signification for the backdrop of an extreme Antarctic landscape, the synthesizer becomes a symbol or visual “other”, which happens to derive its inspiration from the colourful work of van Gogh.

The dichotomy between a spatial perspective of the relatively self-contained musical paintings and their place in the overall experience of the symphony affects more global issues. There is little obvious motivic development spanning the whole work – musically the individual movements are relatively self-contained, but there is a more contextual sense of narrative development that works over the top. Each movement orientates around or comments on a particular atmosphere. Out of the picture that opens the second movement, “The Crows”, a diatonic-sounding melody begins in the solo bassoon at bar 40. However, continued underneath this melody is a suppressed version of the oscillating, “disturbed” upper-string figuration from the picture. As a subjective, possibly expressionist statement, there is evidence that this painting was associated with a certain mood in van Gogh’s life. When he completed the set of three “Wheatfield” canvases, he wrote in a letter to Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger, his brother and sister, of his intention to make a point of ‘trying to express sadness, extreme loneliness’.32 Its symphonic realisation forms a kind of expressionistic comment on this event. Rautavaara studied van Gogh’s correspondence, as well as his works, 33

so would have been aware of the complicated relationship between his life and his paintings. The movement captures a visual impression and explores it musically, but overall it is a “moment” – a musical snapshot of a feeling or stage of life.

30 _{Moody, ‘The Bird Sang in the Darkness’: 22.}

31 _{Elliot Schwartz, The Symphonies of Ralph Vaughan Williams (New York: Da Capo Press, 1964), 134.} 32 _{‘To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Auvers-sur-Oise, on or about Thursday, 10 July 1890’,}

Vincent van Gogh: The Letters. van Gogh Museum, accessed 21st July 2017. http://vangoghletters.org/vg/letters/let898/letter.html.

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The final movement, “Apotheosis”, also exemplifies this dualism between autonomy and the wider formal context. This closing episode is noticeably different in atmosphere from the previous three, establishing a freer, diatonic and lyrical development that builds to a peak of orchestration. In terms of atmosphere and thematic material, this movement is also the most consistent. As shown in Ex. 4.1, the melody beginning in bar two is taken from the end of the opera, as Vincent proclaims his praise for the sun, achieving a sense of liberation, transcendence and closure. This finale therefore presents a more spatial, visual view of form, which is retained in the symphony, by capturing a more optimistic mood. Rautavaara had been struck by the fact that van Gogh’s paintings towards the end of his life were more colourful than those at the beginning:

And then I went and saw all those paintings from his last years from his last period, in Arles, where he died: though he was sick, he was hopeless, he was desperate (he had sold one painting while he was there), he seemed to have no future, nobody cared about his art—and he was schizophrenic and they let him out from the lunatic asylum—the miracle was that these paintings were full of light, full of colors, full of anything but death and desperation, full of trust in life.

Whilst “Apotheosis” is the culmination of an overall operatic and symphonic process, it has also, confusingly, proved marketable as an independent piece. This can be explained by the more obvious Neo-Romantic tone of the movement as a whole, in contrast with the other movements. The Naxos and Ondine record labels have each recorded the movement twice. The score even instructs performers to make use of a harp to play the DX7 synthesizer part when performing this extract in isolation.34 Its function as a celebration of light and life means it can be appreciated on its own terms, much like a work of art. Nevertheless, it is more impactful when it forms part of the experience of the whole symphony. This sense of resolution is largely caused by the extra-musical influence of the operatic story-line. Additionally, subtle musical recurrences, as well as dodecaphonic and modal connections, form a kind of synthesis.

The idea of retrospective understanding, then, extends to the compositional process. The placement of disparate and un-contextualised musical ideas and visual extracts from the opera is not designed to be jarring, but to integrate into a fully coherent, completely new context. For example, Rautavaara implements the Waltz from Act II of Vincent into the third movement. In comparing the opera and symphony, this section

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stands out stylistically, and is therefore a more explicit example of the operatic story residing in the symphony. However, his ability to derive unity from elements that are not obviously connected in musical terms alone is part of what forms this particular symphonic narrative.

This question of symphonic coherence working above musical recurrence alone aligns with Jonathan Kramer’s argument for nuanced disunity being a valuable experience in a given musical work. Arguing against the notion that disunity equates to a lack of coherence, he claims that musical coherence can exist beyond unity.35 Taking this idea further, Kramer argues that a sophisticated knowledge of disunity can lead to a valued appreciation of it as a musical experience in and of itself, as an ‘expressive force, not just the lack of something we like.’36

The narrative unity experienced in the Sixth Symphony depends upon the diverse elements that it throws up and the way they connect as an experience, but also through a thematic and dodecaphonic logic that will be discussed in Chapters 5 and 7, respectively.

The question of deconstruction also aligns with Kramer’s view of Nielsen’s Sinfonia Semplice, which highlights the latter’s apparent rejection of the notion that a symphony had to follow every idea or ‘problem’ introduced through to a properly-restored conclusion.37 Kramer also concludes that such a handling of disunity reflects a current postmodern age where ‘disunity, surprise, collage and discontinuity are common in all our contemporary arts’.38

Such a postmodern perspective can be problematic in Rautavaara’s case, however. While Vincentiana does not return to musical or motivic arguments, and there is at first glance a collage-like collection of material, a larger orientation towards narrative proves more significant.

Transitions and continuity

This chapter has introduced the significance of non-linear narrative, claiming that Vincentiana has a complex balance between visual/ spatial atmospheres and a temporal interaction with these moments. This approach to form is heavily influenced by the characteristics of subjective memory, especially in the presence of non-linear time structures that project a unified experience through a series of moods and a wealth of

35 _{Kramer, ‘The Concept of Disunity and Musical Analysis’, Music Analysis 23, nos. 2-3 (2004): 361.} 36 _Ibid.:362.

37 _{Kramer, 'Unity and Disunity in Carl Nielsen's Sixth Symphony', in A Nielsen Companion, ed. Mina Miller} (London: Faber and Faber, 1994), 322-323.

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material. Transitional passages help create this subjective narrative, especially the sensation of departing from and returning to relatively static events. This understanding tallies with Arnold Whittall’s view that deconstructive analysis is appropriate as a means of exploring the ‘formal richness and multiplicity of musical structures which move through time rather than existing as solid, visible objects in space.’39

The influence of painting on composition continues in a different way following the “Starry Night” section at the beginning of the first movement. From bar 31, upper-first violins, violas and cellos play 12-tone rows – the first doubled by transposition. These proceed in counterpoint, moving the music away from the non-motional temporality of the opening picture. The comparatively linear distribution of this row enacts a transformation away from the painting into a new section, as though replicating in symphonic form the developmental process of reflection and memory as a premise for narrative. As previously stated, a narrative does not need to be present in a musical work for the sensation of narrative to be felt.

Transitions return to the visual atmosphere that opened the symphony. Towards the end of the first movement, the sound world of the opening returns gradually, as the melody becomes more intense and the harmony more chromatic (see Ex. 4.3). The situation gets progressively more desperate, mad and excessive, eventually culminating in the Sostenuto section at bar 256. Cascading descending chromatic lines in the clarinets, bassoons and strings give way to a chromatic, fortissimo cluster chord that closes the movement. This chromatic finish therefore sets up the atmosphere of the second painting at the beginning of “The Crows”. The same transitional process occurs in “Saint-Rémy”. Following the Waltz, which starts at bar 81, there follows a gradual, phasing process back towards intense dissonance. The fact that this Waltz material is transferred from the opera emphasises the notion that the story of Vincent becomes a larger influence for the contrasts and shifts in mood within this symphonic context.

39 _{Arnold Whittall, ‘Form’.}

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