What are the Great American Symphonies?
For my taste the list begins with the
Barber First, the Ives First, the Hanson
Second (Romantic), the Hovhaness
Second (Mysterious Mountain)
, and the Hovhaness Ninth (St. Vartan).
These are works I’ve heard half-a-hundred
times each and can’t wait to hear again.
The list continues with the William
Schuman Third, the Copland Third (most
especially the Minneapolis/Dorati recording
unaccountably out of print for nearly
fifty years!), the Chadwick Fourth
(Symphonic Sketches), and the Hovhaness
Fiftieth (Mount St. Helens).
These works I’ve enjoyed often and remember
well*.
I’ve been listening
to these symphonies by Jim Cockey over
and over recently and fit them on my
list right about here. These works have
that combination of lyricism, great
beauty, and moment to moment surprise
and delight, even on repeated hearings,
coupled with a sense of inevitability
in retrospect, that we find in great
music.
Jim Cockey was born
in Baltimore, Maryland, studied composition
in Portland, Oregon, and currently lives
in Idaho. The central tragedy in his
life is that his son, Israel, was born
autistic. It is this Israel that is
the dedicatee of this Symphony No.
1, and it is that tragic experience
that he seeks to allay through his music.
The first work I heard of his, his Elegy
for string trio, was deeply introspective
and inspired in me visions of the late
Shostakovich quartets. This Symphony
is somewhat more extroverted and less
moodily tragic, yet still a remarkably
personal work, lightly scored and brilliantly
crafted. Cockey asked his son what he
should write about, and the boy replied,
"play" and "love"
so the two middle movements of the symphony
are so titled. While the "Play"
movement is a bright symphonic scherzo
with unmistakable echoes of Copland’s
Billy the Kid and El Salón
Mexico, the Love described
is a complex, anguished one, suffused
with hope and careful optimism with
occasional wafts of Philip Glass and
Leonard Bernstein. The Boise Philharmonic
Orchestra gives us a brilliant performance
especially noteworthy for leader Susan
Duncan’s gorgeous singing solo phrases.
The coughs and sneezes say little for
Boise in November as a healthy place
to live.
The Second Symphony
is more extroverted still, being something
of a public celebration for the City
of Billings, named for Frederick Billings,
the founder and President of Northern
Pacific Railroad. This work in its nineteen
sections is similar in form to Honegger’s
Le Roi David or Walton’s Christopher
Columbus, but briefer than either.
In 1886 the Billings family was living
in Vermont, their 25 year old son Parmly
was living in Billings, Montana. He
began a rail journey home, but fell
ill and died in Chicago. The texts of
the symphony are taken from family letters.
The work begins with very effective
and original railroad travel music that
sounds nothing at all like either Honegger
or Villa-Lobos, then stops abruptly
to suggest the interrupted journey,
and we hear the fragile, birdlike sound
of the Native American flute suggesting
the loneliness of the prairie, the loneliness
of death. The solo piano plays a sad,
wistful salon tune**. The lightest moment
is the depiction of the 1886 Fourth
of July celebration in Billings, described
in Parmly’s letter home. Beginning with
popular dances, then with a few bars
of Yankee Doodle, the movement continues
with authentic style Native American
celebration music; in the cleverly crafted
conclusion the melodic lines merge and
we come to see that all this music is
the same music. Now Parmly’s journey
moves on to its tragic conclusion. Following
the first alarming news of his illness,
the anguished appeals of the mother
and father are sung in canonic counterpoint.
Then we hear hymns from the funeral,
and a reprise of some of the earlier
music in the finale.
That even the wealthy
and powerful must experience tragedy,
the shared tragedy of the illness of
a child unites this symphony to the
rest of Jim Cockey’s work. This Second
Symphony is presented and recorded
here live in the context of a municipal
festival; on first hearing some inanities
may obtrude. But on repeated hearings
the force and power of music sweep all
such considerations aside, and you are
a stronger man than I if you are not
on several occasions reduced to helpless
tears.
The legendary R. Carlos
Nakai receives credit in the liner notes,
and it is likely that it is his development
of the Native American flute (similar
at times in sound to the Japanese shakuhachi)
and appropriate performance practice
that is being acknowledged. Suffice
it say that Joseph Fire Crow, who has
released a best selling solo CD album,
plays this difficult instrument with
all the skill and beauty of his illustrious
predecessor. The instruments used in
this performance were crafted by Barry
White Crow Higgins.
Paul Shoemaker
*Most people would
add the Harris Third, although
I’ve just never warmed to this work.
And just to complete my list: the Glass
Symphonies do not represent his
best work, gradually increase in quality
up to number three, and have fallen
down considerably since them. The Antheil,
Thomson, and Cowell Symphonies are ingenious
but difficult to remember. A good performance
of the Ives Fourth Symphony is
an experience never to be forgotten,
nor repeated. The Bernstein Symphonies,
again, are not his best music, and suggest
that, like Samuel Barber and Arthur
Sullivan, in the end his talent may
have been vitiated by excessive praise.
John Knowles Paine easily earned a B
minus in the Write-Another-Mendelssohn-Symphony
Contest.
**Whether this is an
actual folk tune or an original composition
is probably impossible to determine.
It is made up of every emotional phrase
from every folk-song you ever loved
and as such pours right into you unimpeded
by rational considerations.
Billings Symphony Chorale/David Barnett. 
