After Sibelius: Studies in Finnish Music

Tim Howell

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• eBook ISBN: 9781351577298
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Music

During the last twenty years, the rest of the world has come to focus on the music of Finland. The seemingly disproportionate creative energy from this small country defies prevalent trends in the production of classical music. Tim Howell provides an engaging investigation into Finnish music and combines elements of composer biography and detailed analysis within the broader context of cultural and national identity. The book consists of a collection of eight individual composer studies that investigate the historical position and compositional characteristics of a representative selection of leading figures, ranging from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present day. These potentially self-contained studies subscribe to a larger picture, which explains the Sibelian legacy, the effect of this considerable influence on subsequent generations and its lasting consequences: an internationally acclaimed school of contemporary music. Outlining a particular perspective on modernism, Howell provides a careful balance between biographical and analytical concerns to allow the work to be accessible to the non-specialist. Each composer study offers a sense of overview followed by progressively more detail. Close readings of selected orchestral works provide a focus, while the structure of each analysis accommodates the different levels of engagement expected by a wide readership. The composers under consideration are Aarre Merikanto, Erik Bergman, Joonas Kokkonen, Einojuhani Rautavaara, Aulis Sallinen, Paavo Heininen, Kaija Saariaho and Magnus Lindberg. The concluding discussion of issues of national distinctiveness and the whole phenomenon of why such a small nation is compositionally so active, is of wide-ranging significance. Drawing together various strands to emerge from these individual personalities, Howell explores the Finnish attitude to new music, in both its composition and reception, uncovering an enlightened view of the value of creativity from which

Chapter 1
The Shadow of Sibelius

Sibelius' place within the history of Finnish music is legendary, though his position within western art music as a whole is far more open to debate. Since it was through the music of Sibelius that the world came to look to Finland in the first place, his status may be easily explained, but how and why this came about is rather more complex to appreciate. As a small country, precariously situated on the edge of mainstream Europe and considerably isolated by the barrier of its language, Finland seems to be rather separated from other European nations. Something about Sibelius' composition provided the all-important means for wider communication. As the historian Fred Singleton says, 'it is not necessary to have a dictionary to hand to listen to Sibelius' (Singleton, 1999:75). Such a predominant influence of a single figure, in a country that displays an unprecedented closeness between its political and cultural history, offers an interesting starting point for further investigation.

Already Finland emerges as a 'special case' in this broader context and that distinctiveness remains, though transformed by now into an impressive degree of pluralism. Today, the Society of Finnish Composers lists some 143 actively acknowledged, serious-music composers working in Finland: a disproportionately high incidence of musical creativity for such a small population.¹ A significant number of Finnish musicians — not just composers but conductors, performers and scholars – hold an international reputation; indeed Finland has at least 30 symphony orchestras, many of which are world class: 'more orchestras per capita than any other nation in the world' (Häyrynen, 2004a:4). All of this represents an especially rich and active musical culture that is the envy of far larger nations. This development – from the national predominance of a single figure to the international influence of the current school of Finnish composers – is a highly important strand within this study. It needs to be considered alongside assessing the significance of particular individuals involved, by defining and evaluating the range of styles that characterizes their diversity. Ultimately, in drawing together these various threads, there will need to be some discussion about matters of national identity: whether or not there is a distinctively Finnish 'voice' to this music, despite its indisputable internationalism.

All Finnish composers of the generation after Sibelius have had to come to terms with their relationship to this monumental figure and it is worth outlining some of the issues this raises. Whilst European music history has traditionally demanded that new composers should face up to the legacy of their predecessors. be it the ghost of Beethoven, the spell of Wagner or whoever, for Finland there is an extra dimension of the shadow of Sibelius. Although Sibelius may not rank amongst the canonic figures in mainstream classical music – Mozart, Beethoven; Brahms, Wagner; Schoenberg, Stravinsky (you may construct your own list) – his relative importance, given the lateness of an emergent national identity in Finland, makes him of equivalent stature within a Finnish context. Whether subsequent composers embraced and built upon this influence, or reacted against it and denied its effect, they could not ignore this creative catalyst. Of course, someone who is such an iconic figure might be rather daunting – even inhibiting – for later generations, but a number of factors militate against this. Most obviously, Sibelius exerted the influence of a very positive role model, something to which young composers could aspire. Who would be the "next Sibelius"? The field was wide open. Part of that openness perhaps stems from Sibelius' character in itself; although he was certainly aware of his stature, he became relatively secure in that position and, in turn, such assurance and safety generated a certain kind of modesty. Sibelius did not feel threatened by the next generation. Indeed, young composers of the time, though always nervous about the prospect of meeting this grand old man (partly because they sought his approval), speak warmly of his encouragement of them. Sibelius deliberately chose not to take any academic position where he would have taught composition, though he was offered the Chair in Composition at the Vienna Music Academy in 1912 and the equivalent post at the Eastman School of Music in 1921. He did have a few private composition pupils (notably Leevi Madetoja and Toiva Kuula) but, unlike many other composers, did not initiate any specific line of development through teaching. Above all, compositionally, he remained silent for the last 30 years of his life. 'Here at Ainola, this stillness speaks', his diary is reputed to record; perhaps this silence spoke more directly than he imagined, leaving a certain compositional space for his successors to fill.²

So how may we begin to define the Sibelian legacy, prior to assessing its significance? Perhaps it might be useful to group his sphere of influence under two broad headings, national and international, though these should not be viewed as mutually exclusive; the considerable creative interplay of one upon the other results in a kind of universalism. The 'national' category embraces those works that directly contributed to (or were reflective of) the nationalist cause while Finland was emerging as an independent state. Just as the country strove to achieve political autonomy after centuries of Swedish and Russian domination and influence, Sibelius sought to find his individual musical voice, distinct from other European developments. Early works that directly draw upon the Finnish mythology of the Kalevala (the Kullervo Symphony and the Leminkäinen Suite, for example) would come under this heading, as might a more overt and extreme example: the tone-poem Finlandia. Significantly, Kullervo refers to both a national and universal context; it draws upon the ancient runes of the Kalevala, yet through its mythical status it points to something more universal. Leminkäinen, as purely instrumental music, seems an even more profound reflection of this source and consequently has a more wide-ranging appeal. As Ilkka Oramo explains in relation to early performances, this work had:

an overwhelming impact, the intensity of which a modern listener can hardly imagine... This music was modern, not only in the context of the musical life of a small country on the fringes of Europe, but also in its wider, international context. It was different from, but by no means less modem than, Strauss's Don Juan, Mahler's First Symphony or Debussy's Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune. The other factor was that it was received as something belonging to the Finnish people, because its composer was Finnish and because its inspiration came from Finnish poetry and Finnish nature. Sibelius' music thus offered his compatriots an object of self-identification, which contributed in their minds to the definition of 'who we are'.

(Oramo, 2004:159)

The timing of these events, the coincidence of history, politics and artistic creativity, established an important precedent: national identity and musical modernism are inextricably linked from this point.

What is also apparent, even within these early pieces, is the contrast between two quite different compositional styles, as the distinction between Kullervo and Finlandia would suggest. This division into what is often defined, respectively, as the 'private' and 'public' Sibelius (and something which emanates from the composer's personality in itself), remained a significant characteristic of his output as a whole. Moreover, the distinction between Kullervo and Finlandia may best be expressed as that between 'nationalistic' and 'patriotic' musics: a subdivision that is worth briefly examining. While the Kullervo Symphony and the Leminkäinen Suite helped to establish a sense of national identity, Finlandia (1899/1900), a revision of an orchestral work originally entitled Suomi herää (Finland Awakens), was part of a collection of pieces that had a direct political message. These included a number of vocal examples such as Tulen synty (The Origin of Fire), a cantata based on texts from the Kalevala (1902). Throughout his career, Sibelius was able, when required, to produce works for public occasions (or out of acute economic hardship) that were of popular appeal (which, at times, may be directly political). This kind of creative pragmatism, a view that compositional activity is not merely to serve the intellectual needs of a musical élite, exerted a considerable influence on later generations; it emerges as a consistent feature throughout this survey of twentieth-century and contemporary Finnish composition. Given the closeness between the cultural and political history of Finland, with its musical voice and national identity operating in tandem, such an awareness of wanting to connect with a wider audience parallels the prevailing social democracy of its parliamentary government.

Another significant feature of these early works concerns the musical influences upon Sibelius himself as he gradually established an individual style. Far from being isolated, he was fully aware of compositional developments beyond Finland; the presence of Wagnerian and Brucknerian models from mainstream Europe, alongside those of 'the Five' and Tchaikovsky from Russia, are clearly discernible not only in Kullervo and the Leminkäinen Suite but also in the First and Second Symphonies. Pinpointing these details is not the purpose here, but rather to acknowledge the willingness of a composer with a desire to establish a distinctively Finnish voice to embrace, absorb, process and reinterpret the main influences around him. This was an important part of his character, one that became equally significant to subsequent generations: there was nothing insular about the nationalist element in Sibelius' music. Indeed, Sibelius was crucially aware of the fact that what might be initially liberating could become parochially inhibiting. This may well explain the extent to which he played down the role of Finnish folk-music elements in shaping his own compositional style. It is certainly agreed that he avoided any direct borrowing from folk music. Ilkka Oramo reminds us that in Sibelius' inaugural lecture at the University of Helsinki in 1896 he declared that a composer should, as far as possible, remove local elements and strive towards a universal language (Oramo, 1997:38). History has proved these to be highly prophetic words, given subsequent developments. However, the importance that nationalist sentiments exerted in initiating this history of Finnish music cannot be ignored. Equally undeniable, though, is that Sibelius would not have been able to establish his international stature on the basis of these national-romantic works alone.

The international recognition of Sibelius' achievement is fundamental to any assessment of his historical position. His early works may offer some degree of reflection on national culture and style, and although his maturity as a composer was fashioned from the ability to transcend this, an innate sense of Finnish identity clearly remains. Sibelius was the first Finnish composer to gain a permanent place within an international repertoire, even if the appreciation of his significance varies greatly in different countries. (His music has always held a very special place in Britain and America, for example, and conversely been much less well received in Germany and France.) Even within this repertoire, those works that helped establish him as one of the great composers of the time, the two sides to his personality, the 'private' and 'public' Sibelius, are still apparent. The respective stylistic pairing of Symphony No.4 and No. 6 and that of Symphony No. 5 and No, 7 reflects this division and ultimately derives from the presence of both Apollonian and Dionysian dimensions within his character. Sibelius' international (or, at least, pan-European) music explores a careful balance between 'classical' control and 'romantic' expression, with subtle variations in the proportions of one element in relation to the other.

A useful starting point from which to summarize the reactions of later Finnish composers to their ultimate of role models comes from a documentary film made in 1993 (for broadcast in Finland only) by Pekka Hako, Director of the Finnish Music Information Centre at that time. Valaiseva varjo (The Shadow that Casts Light), with its series of composer interviews, intercut with footage of an elderly Sibelius at home at Ainola, is a highly effective account, carefully positioned between musicological research and investigative journalism.³ Nobody is quite certain as to who was first to coin the term 'shadow' in relation to Sibelius' influence but 'it pops up in the 1920s at the latest' (Oramo, 2004:157). It is a striking image. The film has its own selection of leading composers, and only some of them are featured in subsequent chapters. In the interests of historical balance, it is immensely valuable to be able to recount the views of those who have not been included for detailed study; the order of personnel follows that of Hako's film.

Joonas Kokkonen (1921–96) – see Chapter 4 – describes the effect when, as a little boy, he watched Sibelius walking in the environs of Ainola. To him, at an impressionable age, Sibelius was not just a man but some kind of 'half-God'. He goes on to express the fundamental dichotomy faced by his generation: there was a strong need to pull away from such an influence, but the presence of Sibelius could not be avoided or denied. ⁴ Kokkonen's work encapsulates this dilemma; his First Symphony has virtually no trace of Sibelian influence, yet he waited until 40 years of age before writing in this particular genre, presumably because the 'symphony', above all else, was something Sibelius had made his own. Historically, this situation mirrors that of Brahms in relation to Beethoven; it is certainly of equivalent significance within the Finnish context. As an almost apologetic justification for this need to be independent, Kokkonen points out: that to some extent, Sibelius was a product of his own time; that composers do not live an exclusively musical life or work in a vacuum; and how Sibelius was directly affected by the political and cultural events of the early twentieth century. In short, he is saying that times have changed. As well as providing this reasoned explanation for adopting such a position relative to this legendary shadow, Kokkonen talks of the Sibelius scores that he had studied, citing the Sixth Symphony as the most perfect example of that genre alongside the last tone-poem, Tapiola. This immediately establishes what is to emerge as a recurrent feature of these interviews: that the most private and subtle, least public and least nationalistic compositions of Sibelius were of greatest appeal to subsequent generations. It is, after all, the international dimension to Sibelius' output that held most sway at home.

Einojuhani Rautavaara (b.1928) – see Chapter 5 – speaks of Sibelius as a monumental figure but, ultimately, does not find him menacing (as did composers of the 1930s, like Merikanto, Madetoja, Raitio and Klami). For Rautavaara, the shadow of Sibelius had the equivalent effect of the kind that protects you from the sun. It is from this image that the title of Hako's film, the positive metaphor for historical continuity emerging from 'the shadow that casts light', presumably originated. Rautavaara describes one particular meeting with Sibelius (he was a frequent visitor to Ainola in Sibelius' last years), which was a formal occasion, involving a delegation of composers from the Soviet Union, where a gift of leather-bound scores was presented to the master. He recalls various speeches being made and the fixed expression on Sibelius' face as if this ageing composer was turning into his own monument. The character of Sibelius' reputation had changed: he was becoming a national institution. (Indeed, the Sibelius Academy adopted its current name in 1939.) After all, there was to be no more music. In effect, there was nothing else creatively left to do; it is almost as if Sibelius had departed from his own ego into a kind of mystical aloneness. As mentioned before, the silence of Ainola opened up an opportunity for others.

Usko Meriläinen (1930–2004) points out how composers of his...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Dedication
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Preface
• Acknowledgements
• 1 The Shadow of Sibelius
• 2 Aarre Merikanto – Modernism, Methods and Madness
• 3 Erik Bergman – Time to Rebel
• 4 Joonas Kokkonen – Symphonist, Serialist and Humanist
• 5 Einojuhani Rautavaara – Something Old...Something New...
• 6 Aulis Sallinen – A New Simplicity
• 7 Paavo Heininen – Challenging Tradition
• 8 Kaija Saariaho – The French Connection
• 9 Magnus Lindberg – Rediscovering Balance
• 10 Out of the Shadows
• Bibliography
• Index