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I have chosen five
works, or groups of works, to discuss
which, leaving aside the many arrangements,
brief vocal and choral items etc, I
feel represent a fair cross-section
of Jacobson’s more formal and extended
music. These are: The Hound of Heaven,
The Lady of Shalott, the Symphonic
Suite for Strings, the Theme
and Variations for orchestra, and
the piano music taken en masse.
THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
"A score distinguished
by adroit musicianship, a powerful dramatic
sense and a passionate, driving sincerity
…. A powerful and exciting score, intensely
dramatic, with masterly word-painting
and conveying the urgency of an inescapable
pursuit." – Stephen Williams,
Music Newsletter for New York Times/The
Musical Quarterly.
"A most significant
setting, in which the poem becomes a
living reality." – Alec Rowley,
The Musical Times.
"A work of
unusual distinction, one of the few
that escapes the oppressive influence
of the ‘English choral tradition’ and
has something new to contribute to it."
– Colin Mason, The Chesterian.
In his own and most
other people’s opinion, Maurice Jacobson’s
cantata "The Hound of Heaven"
was his most important composition,
the one he took the most care over,
that meant the most to him, and that
most clearly earns him the right to
be regarded as an important composer.
The bulk of the actual
composition was done in the early 1950s;
the first performance took place in
Birmingham Town Hall on 16 November
1954 with tenor soloist Eric Greene
and the City of Birmingham Choir and
Symphony Orchestra, conducted by David
Willcocks. The London premiere was on
15 February 1958 with John Mitchinson,
the London Choral Society and the London
Philharmonic Orchestra under John Tobin.
The work received excellent reviews
both at its premiere and at subsequent
performances in Britain and the USA.
It was revived for Jacobson’s 80th
birthday concert at the Royal College
of Music, London, where it was again
conducted by (now Sir) David Willcocks,
but has enjoyed few performances since
then: (Ex. 1):-
:
The artistic climate
of the 1970s and 1980s was certainly
not in sympathy with the musical idiom
of "The Hound" – serious,
elevated, by no means unadventurous
but fundamentally conservative; in the
much more pluralistic, post-modern musical
world of the 21st century,
there is no reason why this fine work
should not take its place once again
in the repertoire.
The Hound of Heaven
is scored for tenor solo, four-part
chorus and symphony orchestra. Jacobson
had known and loved Francis Thompson’s
visionary, spiritual poem of human redemption
since his teenage years and had long
thought of setting it to music. The
nature of the poem places the work as
a descendant of Elgar’s Dream of
Gerontius, though both the poem
and the musical language are very different.
Thompson’s poem must
have presented a daunting challenge.
Consisting of 182 lines of variable
metre and with an intricate, asymmetrical
rhyming scheme, the Hound’s dense,
image-laden language is not the kind
of poetry that lends itself easily to
musical setting. It has often been pointed
out that there have been very few successful
settings of Shakespeare’s sonnets simply
because the language is already so rich
and self-sufficient that composers feel
they cannot add meaningfully to it;
and many if not most of the great musical
settings have been of inferior poetry,
or, if by major poets, of their deliberately
popular or ballad-like lyrics (there
are, for instance, plenty of fine settings
of Shakespeare’s own "songs"
within his plays).
Jacobson must therefore
have pondered long and hard on how to
set the Hound, and it is much
to his credit that his setting does
not "sprawl", weighing in
at just 58 minutes in the published
timing (in fact the 1976 performance
at the Royal College of Music takes
a little less than 50 minutes). The
work is through-composed, though in
clearly defined sections; after the
opening, reflective, molto lento
section (up to the words "Naught
shelters thee, who will not shelter
Me"), the pace is generally swift,
with little repetition of words and
brief but deft orchestral interludes.
To quote from the introduction to the
BBC broadcast of the 1976 performance:
"Some of the most personal and
intimate music is entrusted to the tenor
soloist; the choir underlines the emotional
significance of the words and acts as
both narrator and participant".
The orchestral scoring is for a standard
full symphony orchestra, with triple
woodwinds, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones,
tuba, timpani, percussion (used very
sparingly), harp and strings. Despite
these large forces the scoring is usually
light and transparent, the full tutti
being reserved for climactic passages.
Though the orchestration itself is not
a major feature of the work, there are
plenty of instances of imaginative textures
and colours, as one might expect from
a passionate admirer of Ravel’s Daphnis
and Chloe.
The first two sections
of the poem, as far as "All things
betray thee, who betrayest Me"
are set as a single musical paragraph
(to figure 4). The work opens ‘molto
lento’, very slow, with a motif of four
solemn descending chords in the strings
over a pedal G; these chords, whose
modal harmonies give them an archaic
flavour, act as a unifying device and
recur at key points. [Ex.1]
The chorus enters with
the words "I fled Him, down the
nights and down the days; I fled Him,
down the arches of the years",
set as a rhythmically free unison chant
somewhat reminiscent of psalm-singing
or even plainsong, preserving the timeless
feel of the orchestral opening. A feeling
of restlessness is given by the very
free rhythms and the avoidance of the
strong beats in the vocal line. At the
words "and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him" the unison line
gives way to harmony and the music takes
on a more human aspect, emphasised by
the dolce marking. At "From
those strong Feet" the chorus returns
to unison but now with more sustained
lines. This section ends (fig.4) with
the chorus singing "All things
betray thee, who betrayest Me"
to a pianissimo unison over a held bare
5ths chord of G and D, pierced on the
second syllable of "betrayest"
by a high B on solo violin which at
that point thus makes a G major chord;
this may be taken as the pivotal moment
of the work, the remainder developing
the ideas of betrayal and pursuit set
forth, and resolving them at the very
end with the same pure chord of G major.
The tempo now increases
to moderato and, after a short,
expressive passage for solo clarinet,
the tenor enters with the words "I
pleaded, outlaw-wise, By many a hearted
casement". The clean texture, wide
spacing and generally modal harmony
may remind listeners of Copland, here
and elsewhere, though there is no question
of pastiche. The chorus joins and intensifies
the music to its first fortissimo
at "The gust of His approach
would clash it to." (fig.10). The
music subsides as the chorus sings "Fear
wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue",
the unison setting recalling the opening.
An animated, fanfare-like
orchestral passage, now Allegro,
heralds Thompson’s magnificent lines:
Across the margent of the world I
fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of
the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clanged
bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern clatter the pale ports
o’ the moon.
These are given to
the chorus, with an impressive dissonance
at "clanged bars", at which
point the soloist repeats the last two
lines. From here the tenor solo and
the chorus are freely mingled; the chorus
soon gives way to wordless "Ah"s,
producing one of the most ecstatic passages
in the whole work. The freer rhythms
and short phrases at "I tempted
all his servitors" (fig.16) recall
the opening choral passage. After further
excitements the music dies down; the
solemn descending string chords of the
opening return as the chorus reiterates
the important words "Fear wist
not evade as Love wist to pursue"
(fig.21) and closes the whole section
with "Naught shelters thee, who
wilt not shelter Me" (fig.23),
set to the same music as the end of
the first passage ("All things
betray thee, who betrayest Me",
fig.4). The spiritual journey has not
yet been accomplished, and Jacobson’s
musical design eloquently expresses
and reinforces this midway point.
Thompson now brings
in the idea of earthly fulfilment through
children – "They at least
are for me, surely for me!" This
gentle passage is set to wistful music
in a kind of modal G flat major, poco
lento – espressivo e semplice, the
words given to both soloist and chorus
in close antiphony, very lightly accompanied.
At the new idea of nature (" ‘Come
then, ye other children, Nature’s’ "),
the tempo increases to Allegretto –
poco animato (it will be seen how specifically
Jacobson’s tempo and expression marks
are: there are no metronome marks, but
the mood of each section is very precisely
pinpointed by carefully chosen markings
such as these). The chorus takes this
passage, two solo sopranos adding to
the sensuous, pantheistic flavour at
"Wantoning with our Lady Mother’s
vagrant tresses". The soloist picks
up the chorus’s final line "So
it was done", with a tempo change
to Moderato – tempo giusto
(fig.31). The more
personal passage that follows, "I
in their delicate fellowship was
one", is given to the soloist with
a measured, march-like accompaniment
of staccato crotchet chords in the strings.
A new motif of heavy chords rising through
cycles of thirds is introduced at the
words "I was heavy with the even"
and the choir rejoins the soloist. The
music quietens at "In vain my tears
were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek",
and at this point Jacobson chooses to
bring back an earlier line, "Heaven
and I wept together", which becomes
the occasion for a long, expressive
fugal passage for the chorus (fig.40-46),
centred on E major but very fluid harmonically.
The tenor re-enters
with "For ah! We know not what
each other says", poco lento,
triple tempo, in the gently modal G
flat major that we have heard before
at "I sought no more". The
sinuous, expressive vocal line rises
to a couple of high B flats in piano
at "The breasts o’ her tenderness"
– no easy feat for most tenors. The
orchestral transition at the change
of key signature repeats the material
from the transition at fig.26. A luminous,
imaginative orchestral texture of high
solo violin harmonics, string tremolandi,
repeated woodwind chords, sustained
horns and timpani underpins the choral
section starting with "Nigh and
nigh draws the chase" in the basses,
and at the pivotal line "Lo! Naught
contents thee, who content’st not Me"
we become slowly but surely aware that
the descending chords of the opening
are returning. These continue to underpin
the opening of the next section, begun
by the solo tenor with "My harness
piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me".
The accompaniment becomes more active
and the music descends a semitone to
the darker key of G flat as the chorus
comment wordlessly (to "Ah")
on the tenor’s "I am defenceless
utterly". At "I slept, methinks"
the music moves to a gentler G major
with an expressive oboe solo, taken
up by flutes. Tenor and chorus continue
to intertwine until, at the words "with
heavy griefs so overplussed" the
chorus dissolves into wordless, mourning
"Ah"s and the music arrives
at a long pause (3 bars before fig.60).
Youthful ideals have faded and we have
arrived at some of the darkest lines
of the poem. A plangent cor anglais
solo (shades of "Tristan"!),
in the dark key of E flat minor though
as always modally inflected, introduces
the bitter words "Ah! Is thy love
indeed a weed". The tempo quickens
and the mood lightens at "Ah! Must-
Designer infinite!- Ah! must Thou char
the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?",
leading to an exciting orchestral passage,
building to Allegro then molto
agitato. The faster tempo remains
at the tenor’s next entry, "Yet
ever and anon a trumpet sounds".
The glory of war is proposed, but this
leads only to death: "must Thy
harvest fields Be dung’d with rotten
death?" At this point (fig.75)
the opening chords return briefly, but
here forte, in the dark tonal
region of A flat minor, and with a full,
rich orchestration. This prepares us
for the final chase, introduced allegro
molto by tenors and basses ("Now
of that long pursuit Comes on at hand
the bruit"). The solo tenor picks
up the thread, rising to a thrilling
held high B flat at "bursting sea".
The crucial words of the Hound:
"And is thy earth so marr’d,
Shatter’d in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou
fliest Me!"
are given to unaccompanied
chorus, and at " ‘And human love
needs human meriting’ " the opening
chords return, now in their original
peaceful G major form on strings alone
(3 after fig.80). A lovely, timeless,
somewhat pastoral passage for the woodwinds
now emerges, loosely fugal in texture.
Strings, harp and a single horn join
but the music retains its gentle pastoral
character. The tenors and basses enter
in chorale style with "All which
I took from thee", somewhat reminiscent
of "Here on earth we have no continuing
place" in the Brahms Requiem, and
this is developed by the full choir.
The pastoral music returns as the choir
develops the words "Rise, clasp
My hand", firstly directed to be
sung by the semi-chorus and later tutti.
As the tenor soloist senses his final
enlightenment ("Is my gloom, after
all, Shade of His hand, outstretch’d
caressingly?"), the music hovers
around G major and rises to an ecstatic
orchestral climax marked con espansione
(3 bars after fig.102). It remains
only for the chorus to give the final
answer:
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who
dravest Me."
in a long passage whose
harmonic richness is increased by having
the choir divided into two sections.
Finally we become aware of a persistent
high octave G tremolo on violins as
the words "I am He" are isolated;
the other instruments drop out and the
sopranos are left alone on a G major
triad with the violins’ tremolo G, fading
al niente.
THEME & VARIATIONS
The "Theme
and Variations", completed
in either 1943 or 1947 (the records
are not clear), is a large-scale set
of variations on an original theme for
symphony orchestra of double woodwinds,
four horns, two trumpets, three trombones,
tuba, timpani, percussion, harp, celesta
and strings. Jacobson also prepared
a concert version for piano duet which
has been performed with great success.
A studio recording from 1949 of the
original version, by the BBC Northern
Orchestra under Stanford Robinson, lasts
21 minutes 17 seconds. The work could
be regarded as Jacobson’s "Enigma"
set; there is even a reminiscence, conscious
or otherwise, of Elgar’s famous theme
in the similar shapes and lengths of
Jacobson’s phrases, complete with more
sustained phrases in the middle section:
[Ex 1, Theme]
However there the similarities
end: Jacobson’s theme, based on a tonality
of E minor and moving broadly in 3/2
metre, is stated in unison in cellos
and basses (with a discreet wind descant
from bar 6), which gives it an austere
flavour; any implied harmony is modal
rather than major-minor. The theme is
clearly pregnant with possibilities,
with intervals of a fourth and a third
both being prominent; several of its
short motifs are inversions, retrogrades
and re-shufflings of others. At the
end it seems about to cadence on to
the tonic E but breaks off; a "foreign"
C sharp is heard instead, which focuses
the listener’s attention on the first
variation. The work is in fact composed
as a seamless piece of symphonic music,
though it is perfectly clear where each
new variation starts, and the variations
are strongly differentiated in tempo,
character and sonority. Yet they are
in no sense "strict" variations
– all of them being very much longer
and more complex than the theme, though
they generally preserve at least the
outline of its ternary structure. The
theme is used more for its intervallic
and motivic structure and never returns
in its complete form; the opening motif
of a rising second and falling fourth
is particularly important, and the thirds
of the middle section are prominent
in the accompanying textures.
I will give a brief
description of each variation. The first,
allegretto moderato (the tempo is
carefully related to that of the theme)
is in 3/4 time – triple, like the theme,
but much faster, one-in-a-bar. Its pastoral
simplicity is undermined by rhythmic
complexity, with uneven measures and
strong cross accents giving a restless
edge.
The second, Allegro
leggiero, 6/8, is yet more animated,
though still suppressed in tone and
remaining within the orbit of E minor.
The third, Allegretto
con moto, 3/4, begins to shake things
up a bit. A fugato, it is tonally
less stable and line takes precedence
over harmony, though it later settles
into D flat major (a very long way from
E minor) and the music reaches its first
climax.
The fourth, Lento
espressivo, has a fluid, changing
metrical pattern and a freer phrasing
structure than hitherto. Its English-pastoral
harmonies inevitably recall Vaughan
Williams, somewhat unusually in Jacobson’s
work though the two composers knew each
other well and collaborated on a number
of occasions, most obviously on "A
Cotswold Romance" (derived
from "Hugh the Drover").
The fifth, Allegro
vivace, 3/4, blows the pastoral
sentiment away in helter-skelter activity.
The prominence of 4ths suggests a possible
influence of Bartók, as does
the kaleidoscopic, colouristic orchestration
with stopped horns, a prominent part
for celesta, and imaginative percussion
touches.
The sixth, Allegretto
scherzando, in the rare metre of
6/16 (which might bring to mind the
Quintet in "Carmen") continues
the swift pace and flies past; harmonically
fluid and subtle, it hints at several
tonalities without ever settling on
any of them.
The seventh, Andante
semplice, 3/2 like the theme, is
a complete contrast. The key of E flat
is a new tonal region which gives the
music a warm colouring we have not yet
had. The violas bind the texture together
with a constantly reiterated melodic
pattern derived from the first part
of the theme; it lasts 5 beats and the
violas are indeed directed to play "as
if in 5/4". This underpins a rather
gorgeous passage that remains harmonically
static above an E flat and B flat pedal
in the basses; it has a distinct Russian
feel, though the long, almost ecstatic
prevalence of a single chord also recalls
certain moments in Martinů.
The eighth, Lento
espressivo, can probably be taken
as the work’s emotional heart. While
one can detect similarities to Venus
from Holst’s "Planets" Suite,
the music has a sort of benign radiance
in its open-spaced harmonies that perhaps
does not quite belong to anyone else.
The ninth, Allegro
strepitoso, again (like the fifth)
blows away the preceding serious mood
in a variation of somewhat Elgarian,
though harmonically more "modern",
bluster and bustle. It is also notable
for an intrusion of whole-tone harmonies
(perhaps ironically intended).
The tenth, Allegretto
con moto – alla Reel, is the variation
that may give some modern listeners
trouble. It is nothing less than a full-blown
Scottish reel dressed up in orchestral
garb, and while it is clearly humorous
in intent (and perhaps had some extra-musical
significance for Jacobson) it feels
too far removed from the rest of the
Variations and, as a joke, does not
seem quite to "come off".
Still, the more sustained string writing
that enters about two-thirds of the
way through brings a welcome return
to the work’s general tone and character,
and prepares us for the very impressive
Finale (so marked).
The Finale – Largo,
Molto pesante e misurato brings
back the 3/2 metre (later 4/4) and E
minor tonality of the theme, later moving
to E major. While Jacobson avoids anything
as traditional as an apotheosised version
of the full theme, its outlines are
present throughout, particularly its
opening motif of a rising second and
falling fourth. The orchestration is
rich and dark-hued; the music might
have been in danger of becoming a little
over-blown but it is saved from this
by some quite dissonant harmonies as
bits of theme are pitted against each
other over an unchanging tonic pedal,
and by the feeling of inexorable progression.
The texture lightens as several rhythmically
free wind solos unfold over timpani
quavers that remain in strict tempo.
The work seems to be ending, in great
breadth and a confident blaze of sound,
but two soft, mysterious wind chords
of G minor stop the music in its tracks,
hinting at darker areas the music has
traversed, just before the final triple
forte E major chord.
THE PIANO MUSIC
Jacobson was, certainly
in his youth, a virtuoso pianist who
retained his enormous facility into
old age. He once told me that in his
"piano-mad" years – roughly
from the age of 16 to 19 - he had practised
eleven hours a day and had ended up
knowing the entire piano repertoire
as it then existed; even if one needs
to take this with a slight pinch of
salt (I think his knowledge of the concerto
repertoire, for instance, was less all-embracing)
he certainly had a huge knowledge of
piano music at his disposal and was
completely at ease writing for the instrument
(as several of his predecessors and
close contemporaries – Elgar, Vaughan
Williams, Delius, Holst – were not,
the organ rather than the piano having
been at the forefront of English musical
life).
It is therefore rather
surprising, and a matter of some regret,
that there is no major piano work to
set beside "The Hound of Heaven"
and "David". Perhaps
this was simply a question of lack of
time, or of a suitable commission (Jacobson
himself gave very few solo recitals
after his early years). Nevertheless
there is a solid quantity of piano music
including several works that could easily
find favour if revived.
Pride of place must
go to "Carousal", published
in 1946. This is a bright, colourful
piece in C major, with a loose rondo
structure, which has a riotous yet charming
flavour of an English country fair about
it. The second episode, an "alla
musetta" in the unexpected (and
unprepared) key of B flat, is particularly
felicitous. The manuscript bears a dedication
to Louis Kentner which for some reason
did not survive in the published edition;
however, writing for a virtuoso, rather
than the amateurs, students and children
so often in his mind, freed Jacobson
to produce some of his most vital and
full-blooded piano writing. I can confirm
that the piece is not at all easy to
play!
A shorter piece, "Soliloquy"
(published 1940) bears a dedication
to Kentner’s first wife, the redoubtable
Hungarian pianist and teacher Ilona
Kabos ("Ilonka Kabos-Kentner"
in the dedication). The mood, perfectly
expressed by the title, is well sustained,
and this, together with the subtle,
delicate harmony, compensates for a
certain four-squareness in the phrasing
(however Jacobson helps the pianist
by writing "poco rubato"
at the head of the work). There are
a number of what one has come to recognise
as harmonic fingerprints, such as the
favourite chord (spelling upwards) of
F#, A#, D and E#, here more often in
open position (F#, D, A#, E#), which
give a characteristic flavour to the
piece. This chord results from the independent
movement of voices – there is as a rule
a strong linear aspect to Jacobson’s
texture and he rarely used a chord just
for its own sake – yet its sensuous
piquancy is certainly savoured en
passant.
Two fine sets of variations
show both solid construction and an
improvisatory fantasy; the variations
are free, though in both sets they remain
more closely tied to the theme than
in the orchestral Theme and Variations.
Both sets remind me somewhat of the
solidly crafted sets by Fauré
(Theme and Variations) and Paul
Dukas (Variations, Interlude and
Finale on a theme of Rameau). The
"Romantic Theme (1910) and Variations
(1944)" (thus titled) take
a Chopinesque theme by the 14-year old
Jacobson as the subject for five variations
and an extended finale which covers
a wide range of keyboard textures in
a most imaginative way, even if the
harmony, and the music’s general quasi-Romantic
grandezza (echoes of the variations
of Beethoven’s op.109 sonata!), are
very conservative for 1944. The Variations
on a Theme of Schumann (from the Album
for the Young) are similarly built up
but, while perhaps more adventurous,
seem less inspired.
In an altogether lighter
vein, the "Music Room"
suite was Jacobson’s most popular and
successful piano work during his lifetime.
Published in 1935 by Elkin, it consists
of five short movements, Rustic Ballet,
Sarabande, Bagatelle,
Brown Study, and River Music,
each dedicated to a friend. The first
two numbers are also published separately
by Roberton. (I have a private recording
by Jacobson himself which includes a
couple more numbers that remained unpublished;
his performance of the tricky "River
Music" shows to what extent
he had retained his pianistic skill
despite a schedule that allowed for
almost no practice at all). These delightful,
wholly successful miniatures do not
venture beyond conventional, if modally
inflected, tonality and a clear, classical
phrase structure, but they are sensitively
laid out for piano and the invention
is fresh and spontaneous.
I mention the "Lament"
(1941) in memory of the eminent singer
and teacher Harry Plunket Greene here
although it also exists for cello and
piano. This is a serious, rich-textured
work with more Jewish melodic and harmonic
influence than normal in Jacobson’s
instrumental works.
Passing over the music
for children (which includes "I’ve
lost my penny" and "Found
it!", both from 1923), there
are two important arrangements: one
of Jacobson’s own ballet suite from
"David" (only in manuscript,
dated 1935), and the other a very fine
arrangement from 1939 of Peter Warlock’s
"Capriol Suite". The
Capriol Suite is largely a scrupulous,
impeccably laid out straight transcription;
there are nevertheless some ingenious
and imaginative touches where Jacobson’s
skill as a transcriber results in textures
that convey the original better than
a literal rendering could, such as the
end of the first movement (ex.2):
The arrangement of
the "David" ballet
suite ["The ‘David’ music
is extraordinarily apt" – Bristol
Evening Post] is a more functional affair,
probably made for rehearsal purposes;
the unpublished manuscript score is
full of cuts and re-orderings, and Jacobson’s
own recording has a different selection
again. The music itself, after a strong,
harmonically rich and dark-textured
opening which may remind listeners of
the music being written around the same
time by Frank Bridge, tends to become
rather too "illustrative"
for the suite to work in purely musical
terms, though it is always attractive
and colourful. This opening, however,
representing the entrance of Samuel
and his asking for Jesse’s song, contains
what for me is some of Jacobson’s most
powerful and personal music and shows
what he might have done if he had been
able to devote himself more completely
to composing (ex. 3):-
SYMPHONIC SUITE FOR
STRINGS
With the fine Symphonic
Suite for Strings of 1951, which
received its first performance by the
Hallé Orchestra under Sir John
Barbirolli at the 1951 Cheltenham Festival,
I feel I cannot do better than quote
in full the composer’s programme note
to the first British performance in
1952:
"Having neglected
composition for very many years, during
which time I have imbibed and loved
much music of vastly varying idioms,
I now find myself uncertain of my own
musical language. This I discover to
be in a curious state of flux. My "David
Ballet" music, for example,
written in 1935, is in some ways more
"modern" than this present
suite, written last year. So now I write
and write, letting matter dictate manner,
in the hope that in due course I shall
find my own idiomatic feet. That, obviously,
is what I have done in this present
instance.
In this Suite, a reflective
central movement divides the serious-gaiety
of the first movement from the more
unleashed jollity of the last. The interval
of a fourth, leaped or filled-in, makes
some characteristic re-appearance in
all three movements.
The first movement
is, I suppose, in E major – certainly
in the main. Its persistent rhythmic
vivacity suggests gaiety; yet it has
its more serious undertones, in no way
lessened by a certain amount of syncopation.
It is fairly fully scored up to the
appearance of a fugato. The four-bar
subject of this begins in the ‘cellos
with the leap of a fourth already mentioned.
Violas follow, then 2nd violins,
and so on, building quickly to a return
of the opening. Here, only the first
part is given, leading to an extended
coda. During this, the music plays about
with earlier and new material, and the
movement finishes in a mood of unashamed
syncopation.
The slow movement explores
a gentler and subtler scoring. Solo
instruments co-operating or contrasting
with tutti, much divisi, mutes and no
mutes, all make their customary contributions
to the essential thought of the movement.
This I find difficult to define. Conflict,
there is, of some sort. Straightway,
the introduction, vague in harmony and
movement, seems to pose a question.
To this a D minor folk-like tune appears
as the first answer. In it, the characteristic
fourth can be heard with a leap in the
main theme, and filled-in in the accompaniment
strands (as also in the introduction).
A note of some personal distress appears,
separating the more communal fold-utterances.
All this mainly D minor tonal stream
has its momentary harmonic excursions,
and now the music quickly plunges into
a key-conflict, from which a serene
B flat minor emerges. This is tested
in various ways as an answer to the
opening question, and then discarded
in favour of a brief re-trial of the
earlier D minor material. But this is
soon rejected, and the music ends with
renewed irresolution, unless the entire
movement be regarded as an answer to
its own implicit questions.
Syncopated fourths,
leaping alternately up and down, begin
the cheerful journey of the last movement.
Here the harmonic departures seem to
serve rather than dissipate the prevailing
tonality, E major as in the first movement.
The first section of the three-part
structure of this movement finishes
with the opening theme metamorphosed
into a tune which recalls the nursery
rhyme "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall"
with, however, my fourths substituted
for Humpty’s thirds. After his final
fall, the central panel of this movement
appears as a short Theme and Variations
related in some obscure way to the foregoing
material, but entirely different from
it in mood. The first section is then
repeated, somewhat curtailed and changed.
This leads into Humpty’s apotheosis,
which moves quicker and quicker to a
conclusion based on material from the
variations."
This is interesting,
both for what it reveals and for what
it doesn’t. Engaging and stylish, it
guides us well enough through the work
itself, yet it is strangely distanced,
as if Jacobson is describing the music
of someone else. For instance, an underlying
programme for the slow movement is merely
hinted at, and we are given no clue
as to the reason for the sudden appearance
of "Humpty Dumpty" – which
is unmissable – in the last movement.
The key to all this is surely in the
opening paragraph where Jacobson describes
his uncertainty as to his current musical
orientation. The actual composition
is spontaneous and assured, yet it arose
from no stylistic certainty beyond that
born of great experience and technical
craftsmanship.
The result, for me,
is a terse and somewhat astringent,
even edgy work, with less "gaiety"
than Jacobson heard in it or perhaps
intended. The Humpty Dumpty reference
is amusing in an enigmatic way, and
better integrated into the musical line
than the "Scottish reel" in
the Theme and Variations*. Only the
opening of "David" could really
be seen as more modern than the Symphonic
Suite; as a whole, the Suite is more
consistently "modern" in its
abandonment of clear tonality and its
lithe, linear, Bartókian counterpoint.
In fact I see in the Suite the working
out of certain harmonic and thematic
processes that reach their full expression,
in a more measured manner, in "The
Hound of Heaven". This might have
then served Jacobson as his mature musical
language, but sadly there were to be
no major works after the "Hound".
The exigencies of public musical life
took over, leaving too little time for
the demands of large-scale composition.
Returning to the Suite,
the string writing is remarkably vital
and virtuosic, reminding us that Jacobson
was also an expert violinist in his
youth. While no use is made of the advanced
effects already in vogue – harmonics,
glissandi, bow effects such as col legno
– the string writing is fully worked
out and not at all easy, certainly too
difficult (surprisingly) for the strings
of the Juilliard Orchestra on the only
recording I have been able to hear:
their playing is frequently scrappy
and out of tune, and the work stands
in need of a good modern recording to
reveal its true stature.
*Perhaps it has an
element of self-caricature. Interestingly
enough I myself wrote a set of choral
variations on "Humpty Dumpty"
when I was a student at Oxford, though
at that time I did not know the "Symphonic
Suite". I’ve inherited my father’s
short stature and tendency to rotundity,
and am now, like him, very challenged
in the capillary department – though
I certainly wasn’t when I wrote my variations.
THE LADY OF SHALOTT
"Extraordinarily
evocative, sometimes quite magically
so, and exquisite in its use of subtle
colour of harmony and of sound-values."
– Eric Blom, Music & Letters
"This is one
of the most poetical and imaginative
choral works that I have seen for some
time." – Edmund Rubbra, Monthly
Musical Record
Jacobson’s setting
of Tennyson’s famous poem – if less
famous than it used to be – dates from
1942 and, like "The Hound of
Heaven", is scored for tenor
solo (representing Sir Lancelot), SATB
chorus and orchestra (versions exist
for both full orchestra or just strings).
The published duration is 35 minutes.
The musical language is considerably
more conservative than that of the "Hound",
and the work is perhaps aimed more at
the amateur choral societies, with which
indeed it had considerable success in
its early years. The first performance
was given on 31 October 1942 at Manchester
University by the Sale & District
Choir under Alfred Higson. In May 1944
Jacobson conducted it himself with the
Etruscan Choral Society at the Victoria
Hall, Hanley, with the young Peter Pears
as soloist. (Kathleen Ferrier sang in
the first half of that concert: it was
her first meeting with Pears, and it
led to him introducing her to Britten
who then wrote "The Rape of
Lucretia" for her.)
Tennyson’s poem dates
from 1832 and was an important influence
on the Pre-Raphaelites. Indeed Lord
David Cecil, in his preface to "A
Choice of Tennyson’s Verse" (Faber
1971), says that "The Lady of
Shalott anticipates and surpasses
the Pre-Raphaelite poets in its power
to recreate the charm of medieval romance
as it appeals to later ages." Jacobson
must have been conscious of the responsibility
to convey the special qualities of a
much-loved poem, and his success is
indicated in Eric Blom’s review:
"The work,
while making one wonder why no composer
seems ever before to have been attracted
to Tennyson’s poem, causes one to feel
quite glad Mr Jacobson had it to himself,
for his treatment of the poem is most
engaging, and in the final section truly
moving."
Jacobson maintains
Tennyson’s division into four parts,
the musical setting of each part running
on without a break to the next. The
first part sets the scene, only hinting
mysteriously at the actual person of
the Lady of Shalott. The chorus sets
the scene in music of a quiet, mysterious
remoteness, undulating gently above
a long-held pedal note of C with a persistent
A flat. At "Willows whiten"
the solo tenor enters but there is no
sharp change in the music’s character.
At "But who hath seen her wave
her hand?" the tempo quickens,
the mood lightens, and the music skips
along in an airy D major triple-time
passage of great charm, intensified
at "Only reapers, reaping early"
with the addition of sopranos and altos
singing wordlessly – a highly evocative
passage. An orchestral passage hints
at the heroism of Sir Lancelot but his
time has not yet come! Returning to
C major and the opening material, the
first part ends in a mood of questioning
with the words " ‘Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott".
The second part fills
out the character and story of the Lady,
ending with the important words:
‘I am half-sick of shadows,’ said
The Lady of Shalott.
The setting opens with
a classic spinning motif in 9/8 with
running legato semiquavers. No clear
tonality is established though the music
hovers around A major. Again the chorus
sets the scene in music of tender mystery,
as if describing a presence divined
rather than witnessed. At "There
she sees the highway near", the
music quickens and a dotted motif, marked
ritmico e non legato, gives perhaps
a rather too facile impression of the
"surly village churls" and
the "red cloaks of market girls".
Again the more withdrawn images seem
to elicit the most imaginative responses,
such as the fine unaccompanied passage
at "For often thro’ the silent
nights a funeral". The solo tenor
remains silent in this entire section,
awaiting his big moment in the third
part. The music dies down to pianissimo,
and Jacobson conveys the Lady of Shalott’s
ennuiin irresolute harmonies
over a sustained A flat/G sharp tremolo.
The third part introduces
us to "bold Sir Lancelot"
in a firm C major which is nevertheless
coloured by G sharps/A flats as if to
indicate the proximity of the Lady of
Shalott and that their paths are about
to cross. The tempo is a fast Allegro
con allegrezza, and Jacobson gives
a further direction of Tempo giusto
to blow away any lingering traces
of the former music’s irresolution and
half-lights. The solo tenor describes
Sir Lancelot’s knightly appearance,
armour and bearing in what to all intents
and purposes is a substantial aria,
loosely in strophic form. This takes
up almost four full stanzas of the five
in Tennyson’s third part, the chorus
entering only at "From the bank
and from the river" with more measured,
legato music swinging along in whole
bars. A fortissimo climax is
reached at "He flash’d into the
crystal mirror". We have now reached
the turning point of the story, where
the Lady of Shalott is compelled to
look down to Camelot, thus invoking
the curse. The music breaks off; we
get a reference to the "spinning"
motif, broken by silences (perhaps influenced
by the famous moment at the climax of
Schubert’s "Gretchen am Spinnrade").
The chorus enters senza espressione,
perhaps to indicate that the Lady of
Shalott is moving in a trance, under
the influence of urges she cannot understand:
"She left the web, she left the
loom, She made three paces thro’ the
room". The dynamic is pianissimo
apart from a single outburst at the
line "The mirror crack’d from side
to side". The altos, representing
the voice of mature womanly experience
(they at least know what it means!),
end with " ‘The curse is come upon
me’, cried the Lady of Shalott.",
set to disconsolate, meandering chromatic
harmonies.
The fourth part describes
the Lady’s death as she sings herself
to sleep in a boat floating down the
river. In a sombre G minor, and a measured
4/4 tempo – most of the music hitherto
having been in some form of triple metre
– the tenors and basses solemnly set
the scene in bare octaves. The sopranos
enter at "Down she came and found
a boat", imparting a little more
warmth to the music. A barcarolle motif
enters subtly, without fundamentally
disturbing the music’s measured pace.
This whole section is subdued and without
strong contrasts, yet there is enough
harmonic colouring and melodic subtlety
to keep the attention: as Eric Blom
and others have pointed out, there is
more substance in Jacobson’s music than
a superficial reading might reveal.
The wordless accompaniment by the lower
voices to the sopranos’ "And as
the boathead wound along" is a
specially imaginative touch, and indeed
the whole final section breathes the
magical Pre-Raphaelite air of Tennyson’s
poetry. A kind of pilgrims’ chorus,
beginning at the words "Heard a
carol, mournful, holy" binds the
section together; against it the altos
sing a wordless, melismatic lament.
The solo tenor re-enters at "For
ere she reach’d upon the tide"
and the music takes on a little more
animation, rising to a restless Allegro
inquieto at "Out upon the wharfs
they came", as the "knight
and burgher, lord and dame" gather
to observe the tragedy of the now dead
Lady of Shalott in her boat. This allows
Jacobson one further fortissimo
climax (without which this final section
might have been too muted) at the words
"Who is this? and what is here?"
The music dies down
and returns to the quiet, undulating
C major of the very opening. The solo
tenor sings the famous closing lines:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, ‘She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace.
The Lady of Shalott.’
His words are echoed
gently by the chorus, not in the prevailing
C major but in subtle, modally-inflected
harmonies touching D flat and F sharp
minor in a passage that reminds me strongly
of certain progressions in the music
of Fauré. The C major returns,
quite "pure", without the
persistent A flat colouring that it
has always had till now, and the music
fades to nothing as the chorus holds
the word "grace" on a long
C major chord.
CONCLUSION
I hope I have conveyed something of
the extent and quality of the music
of this now-neglected composer, for
whom a revival is surely overdue. The
huge corpus of arrangements and music
for amateur choirs and children served
a useful, honourable purpose in its
day; but the larger and much more personal
compositions, which clearly meant the
most to him, represent a true contribution
– small, maybe, but powerful and individual
– to mid-20th century British
music.
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