Three compositions and three wars

Antoni Pizà

When selecting a concert repertoire, a conductor and his orchestra may apply many different criteria to choose which compositions are to be performed. While some are practical criteria (for instance, which compositions are already in the repertoire and what they play well), others have to do with aesthetics. Creating coherence, variety, beauty; finding that middle ground between entertaining the audience and educating them at the same time, discovering an intriguing composition or a lesser-known composer are all possible considerations.  The concert repertoire takes the form of a book with different chapters or a series with several episodes, each one more or less independent, but all linked by a logic that is at times very explicit and at others a little less so.  The audience, each one of us, is free to try to find this link or these links between the different pieces in a concert. In fact, a good idea would be for each of us to try to connect the different parts of the coherent whole that are a concert.  By no means does this mean that our conclusions are unquestionable truths or that the performers and arrangers have foreseen these links and connections, but to try to do so, wondering about what these musicians are trying to tell me, will always be a joyful experience.

For example, and this is just an “example”, not an unquestionable truism, all the pieces performed in this concert today share a common theme of war. The three great compositions featured in this programme were created in the midst of appalling wartime contexts, sometimes justified as essential if only for people’s well-being. Symphony no. 1, “Classical”, in D major, op. 25 by Sergey Prokofiev (1891 to 1953) was written during the February Revolution, which was the initial phase of the famous Russian Revolution (1917) that ended Tsar Nicholas II’s regime and ushered in the communist regime. The composer was a member of the country’s cultural and artistic elite and was able to take refuge in the countryside and even go on holiday. This act of seeming negligence or selfishness, or perhaps pure survival instinct, resulted in this very popular score.

Running away from the riots of the revolutionaries paid off for Prokofiev because he was able to create a work of artistic genius that has essentially done more good for humankind than some revolutionary riots. As we know, it is called “classical” because the composer took Haydn’s and Mozart’s late 18th and early 19th century symphonies as his inspiration, i.e., works in four movements with a very clear structure and airy feel. An additional interesting fact is that Prokofiev, who was a piano virtuoso, wanted to practise composing without a piano, i.e., writing the score at a desk, all “off the top of his head”, without relying on piano keys. Lightness and relative simplicity provided an extraordinary opportunity for him to do this, and he wanted to take advantage of it.  It is clear that he succeeded in his efforts.

The very famous Concierto de Aranjuez for guitar and orchestra by Joaquín Rodrigo (1901-1999) is also rooted in a wartime conflict. In 1939, the composer and his wife were living in Paris and other parts of Europe while they waited for the Spanish Civil War (1936-39) to end.  Apart from the war, Rodrigo’s wife Victoria Khami lost a child during pregnancy, and out of all these problems, plus great inspiration and skill, of course, came this well-known composition.  When the war ended, the Concierto was first performed in Barcelona in 1940. Censorship and the government authorities had no objection to it because it was a traditional, melodic work with no pretensions of foreign modernity. Moreover, the theme revolved around the gardens of Aranjuez and the monarchs who came to spend the summer there. Traditionalist or not, Francoist or not, the Concierto has stood the test of time thanks to its purely artistic merits and is one of the greatest compositions in the guitar repertoire. The fact that everyone has made jazz and pop language versions of the second movement, Adagio, has only increased its prestige.

Finally, Symphony No.  5, in E minor, op.  64 by P.  I.  Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) also touches on this common theme of wars. During the World War II period known as the Siege of Leningrad (1941-44), Nazi troops created a total blockade of St. Petersburg for 872 days, with the help of the Finnish army and the Spanish Blue Division. War, famine, infection and misery ensued. The inhabitants of one of Europe’s most cultured cities endured nearly three years of humiliation, sacrifice and abject poverty. Art, however, was one of the few lifelines for the city’s people. In particular, on 20 October 1941, while foreign forces were bombing St. Petersburg, the Leningrad Radio Orchestra performed Symphony No.  5 continuously despite the bombs.  The concert was broadcast live on radio in London, a city also threatened by Nazi fury, and the piece has since been regarded as a symbol of democracy and freedom. Not surprisingly, the Symphony adopts a cyclical form (i.e., some themes are repeated in all the movements) and although it is not a thematic work (with a specific literary or ideological theme), since the first performances, this fifth symphony has been associated with Beethoven and the theme of “destiny”, of overcoming difficulties through effort.