Before the current,
continuing Japanese Classics series
on Naxos and before the invaluable Camerata
releases - there was this set of the
six symphonies of Ikuma Dan. It was
released by Decca in 1990 and is regrettably
no longer available.
The booklet’s biographical
notes are in Japanese with a brief synopsis
of each symphony in German and the English
text of Edmund Blunden’s poem "Hiroshima,
a Song for August 6, 1946" with
a Japanese translation.
As early as 1912 with
Igor Stravinsky’s 3 Japanese Lyrics,
composers such as the American Charles
Tomlinson Griffes with his 1917 work
Sho-jo – a pantomime based on
Japanese themes – and his Five Poems
of Ancient China and Japan, were
discovering Asian music. Later on others,
such as Colin McPhee and Henry Cowell
became profoundly involved with Asian
repertories. In 1962, after returning
from a visit to Japan, Olivier Messiaen
composed his Sept Haïkaï
with its textures and melodies approximating
closely the sound of a Japanese ensemble.
When in the early 1960s Karlheinz Stockhausen
visited Japan, he became seriously interested
in its culture and perceptions, resulting
in his tape-piece Telemusik, composed
there in 1966.
During World War II,
nearly all Western music – with the
exception of that from Germany and Italy
– was prohibited in Japan. After the
war that all changed and since 1950
– the year of Dan’s First Symphony –
more than 75 Japanese composers have
written over 170 symphonies!
Ikuma Dan was born
in Tokyo in April of 1924, a descendant
of a noble and rich heritage. His grandfather,
Baron Takuma Dan, was president of Mitsui
& Co. and was assassinated by a
rightist in 1932. He began learning
to play the piano at the age of seven
and eventually enrolled in the Tokyo
Music Academy in 1942, studying with
Saburo Moroi and Kan-ichi Shimofusa,
both of whom had studied in Germany
in the 1930s. In 1944 he enlisted in
the Toyama Military Band School and
after the war joined the Japanese public
broadcaster NHK as a Chartered Composer.
He formed a group "The Three"
with his friends and fellow composers
Yasushi Akutagawa and Toshiro Mayuzumi.
Their activities led the Japanese music
scene in the 1950s. In 1952 he composed
the work that would gain him national
attention – the opera Yuzuru (The
Twilight Crane) the first
of seven operas he was eventually to
produce and which has been performed
more than 600 times. 1952 also saw Dan
compose the first of over 200 subsequent
film-scores with the production of Sword
for Hire. Dan’s success led him
to be chosen to create a celebratory
wedding march in 1959 for the Crown
Prince Akihito and to compose the opening
music for the 1964 Tokyo Olympics.
As time went on Dan
became more and more involved in writing
essays, guest-lecturing at some of China’s
most renowned academies, conducting
the Beijing and Shanghai orchestras.
He was also named President of the Sino-Japanese
Cultural Exchange Association. In fact,
Dan died in May of 2001 in China of
heart failure during a visit as head
of a delegation of the SJCEA, the year
after "Dan Year 2000" a nationwide
celebration of his music.
Dan also studied with
Paul Hindemith and the great Japanese
composer and pedagogue – Koscak Yamada
(1886-1965), Japan’s "first symphonist"
– who also discovered the conductor
of the first two works in this set –
Kazuo Yamada (1912-1991). Dan completed
Yamada’s opera The Princess Shian-Fei
that was left unfinished after World
War II. It was first performed in 1981.
The six symphonies
which comprise this collection span
a 35 year period from 1950 to 1985.
They represent the progression of Dan’s
musical development although the configuration
of his orchestras changes little within
the cycle. In studying these works however,
one can recognize the essential differences
from Western music – the sense of time,
the sense of space and the sensitivity
to color and tone.
Symphony #1 in A
(1950)
This work can easily
be sub-titled "Romantic" or
"Tragic". In one movement,
marked Andante maestoso-Allegro and
about the length of a Haydn symphony,
it is reminiscent of a Richard Strauss
tone-poem. It is immediately accessible,
Russian and English influenced - Dan
greatly admired the music of Britten.
The symphony tied with Yasushi Akutagawa’s
Music for Orchestra for first
place in Japanese Radio’s (NHK)
25th Anniversary Competition
in 1950.
The beginning recalls
Tchaikovsky and is tonal in style, deep
and emotional in its musical language.
It starts with a marked brass theme
that remains the main theme throughout.
It will alternate with a more lyrical
motif strongly evocative of Rachmaninoff’s
Symphony #2.
Then along comes a
scherzo, languid and pulsating like
waves - almost a direct quotation from
Wagner’s Die Fliegende Hollander.
All this develops into a fugue leading
to a close with a combination of all
the preceding themes. The work ends
pianissimo like a dirge – solemn and
softly, profoundly moving.
The Vienna Symphony
Orchestra under the direction of Kazuo
Yamada handles the flow of lyricism
and tension with an appropriate combination
of power and aplomb.
Symphony #2 in B
Flat (1956)
This work is in three
movements, over twice the length of
its predecessor and its construction
is much more complicated.
The first movement
(Andante serioso-Allegro ma non tanto)
is twice as long as each of the two
that follow. The initial theme is reminiscent
of the beginning of Sibelius’s Symphony
#1, muted and mysterious. This opening
acts as a prelude for the rest of the
piece, a real "tension-builder".
The slow and lumbering pace, with the
cellos playing low and a Brucknerian
pause leads us into a swirling, windy
nature motif. The interplay between
the strings and woodwinds is lovely
– Japanese flavored. This can almost
be music for a Japanese Western movie
(is there such a thing?) so reminiscent
of Dvorak’s New World Symphony. An
absolutely ravishing melody appears
with the violins soaring above the cellos
recalling the opening of Prokofiev’s
Symphony #7 - composed just four
years earlier - only to be interrupted
by the clash of cymbals. The coda brings
us back to the cellos flirting with
the oboes and flutes playing softly,
building into the movement’s gloriously
heroic ending.
The second movement
(Andante con moto) is dominated
by a Japanese "feel" commencing
with a quiet, far-off processional theme
punctuated by a tambourine, suggestive
of a rite of some sort or a ritualistic
dance. One may all but breathe the fragrance
of cherry blossoms and lotus-flower
and envision the ancient gardens, temples
and wooded hills. The music fades quietly
and enigmatically to a close.
This leads directly
into the third movement (Allegro
con brio) with the horns calling
into action, a frantic dance recalling
the Allegretto from Shostakovich’s
Symphony #8; violins play
pizzicato and rush forward with the
military drums heralding a march. Abruptly,
a melancholy tune emerges played by
the violins looking back to the first
movement. This is underlined and held
aloft by the horns devolving gradually
to the symphony’s ominous end.
It’s quite obvious
that both conductor and orchestra have
a strong affection for this music. Yamada
elicits playing that is precise and
heartfelt and induces the strings in
particular to perform exquisitely.
Symphony #3 (for
2 Movements) (1960)
When relations with
the Soviet Union were normalized in
1956 and the US-Japan Security Treaty
was renewed in 1960 the result was much
public unrest in Japan. This symphony,
completed in New York, reflects the
turmoil of the times. Dan has said that
"the oppressive power of the massive
skyscrapers" made him re-connect to
his Japanese heritage. Whereas in the
two preceding works Dan’s debt to Western
influences are clear, here a more distinctive
voice is apparent.
This piece, Dan’s most
widely played symphony, is decidedly
unlike its predecessor in size and in
the handling of the orchestra; for instance,
gone are the sweet strings. Both movements
tend to be repetitive and monotone although
the instrumentation here is masterful
and the music keeps you on the edge
of your seat throughout.
The first movement
(Andante sostenuto) opens strangely
and darkly with a distant flute leading
into a plaintive oboe. This brief introduction
is quickly replaced by what can be termed
music that is taut and psychological.
Once again Shostakovich comes to mind
– this was around the time of Shostakovich’s
Symphonies #11 and 12 and his
String Quartets #7 and 8. This
is troubling and uncomfortable music,
utterly physical and flirting with atonality
– a clear departure from his first two
symphonies. The horns play a central
role in this chilling sound-world and
towards the end of the movement we hear
the first and only trace of "Japan",
and this not for long. We end with a
solo flute playing sweetly, perhaps
sarcastically; only to be stopped dead
in its tracks.
The next movement (Allegro)
rushes forward "volante" with
horns, cellos, oboes, violins and flutes
taking turns with a xylophone and chimes
in the background. This is apocalyptic
music with the first respite coming
about 5 minutes in – the eye of the
storm - a soaring melody by now characteristic
of Dan with the violins gliding above
the cellos. The orchestration is plainly
that of a master, the brutality of expression
giving way to resignation, then a final
march towards the cliff - and the wild
ride is over.
The composer himself
leads the Viennese forces here and the
playing is remarkably well suited to
this exhilarating music.
Symphony #4 (1964)
When Eugene Ormandy
first traveled to Japan with his fabled
Philadelphia Orchestra in the spring
of 1967, performing to sold-out audiences
all over the country, the highlight
of the trip was undoubtedly their participation
in the 10th annual Osaka
International Festival. It was on that
occasion that they performed this symphony
to great critical acclaim. There is
a Conducting Score inscribed by Ikuma
Dan to Ormandy reading: "With Thanks
and Best Wishes, 1 hour before your
performance of this symphony in Osaka,
5th May, 1967" – is
it possible anyone had a tape recorder
running?
This symphony, composed
in 1964 the year of the aforementioned
Tokyo Olympics, has a clear and formal
classical set-up in four movements –
the only four movement work in Dan’s
cycle of symphonies.
The first movement
(Allegro ma non troppo) recalls
Aram Khachaturian from the outset –
a repetitive staccato theme played on
the piccolos then the strings later
mirrored by the brass. What is by now
Dan’s signature Modus Operandi – the
cellos playing low and tragically with
the violins emoting overhead takes the
movement into its second theme, the
flutes and piccolos underlining the
strings and percussion. This truly is
a collage of conflicted sound.
The second movement
(Adagio) begins with a lilting
theme on the violins strongly reminiscent
of Khachaturian’s Violin Concerto
– an ultra-slow waltz, a slow dance.
The piccolo briefly returns punctuating
the pushing and pulling between the
strings and horns. A Sibelius-like fanfare
on the horns contrasts the undulating
strings – the tensions here quite akin
to the interplay between piano and orchestra
in the second movement of Beethoven’s
Piano Concerto #4. This Adagio
is perfectly wrought and one can only
imagine what the Philadelphians made
of it forty years ago!
This next movement
(Tempo di minuetto [Allegretto])
is so very interesting - commencing
with a Stravinskian dance, this is ballet
music. I would love to know what Massine
or Balanchine would have done with it
– a "Japanese Petrouchka"
if you will. The comedic mood is irresistible
and the simplicity of the orchestration
is nothing short of genius – quite economical.
The fourth and final
movement (Allegro con brio) is
the shortest section by half – compact
and action-filled. The music races forward
with the violins weaving through the
orchestra at a frantic pace – breathlessly.
The symphony slams shut with two final
beats from the bass drum.
The VSO’s playing here
is superb, the percussion particularly
impressive and the strings beyond criticism.
Dan leads an authoritative performance,
technically quite extraordinary.
Symphony #5 (1965)
Written only one year
after its predecessor, this work is
relatively dissimilar and formal in
its development.
The first movement
(Andante sostenuto-Allegro moderato)
begins with a very short and unusual
introductory string quartet; you can
sense the influence of Hindemith in
the theme. The orchestra enters in a
serious and somber mood, the cellos
offering a nostalgic melody with the
French horns briefly joining in. The
pace picks up toward the center of the
movement leading to a charming tune
introduced by the violins and flutes
as the horns and strings intertwine.
The latter section has the orchestra
ardently playing in full-force until
the cellos return with the solemn melody
of the opening preceding the movement’s
energetic end.
The next section (Scherzo
[Allegro vivo]) has a distinct
"Old Viennese" feel to it.
This is vigorous, muscular music, the
language exceptionally clear - so light
and airy that it could be mistaken for
Hugo Wolf. Swirling flutes with bells
and chimes, wave-like movement recalling
Dan’s own Symphony #1.
The finale (Ten
Variations on an Old-Fashioned Theme)
consists of ten contrasting variations.
The horns introduce the theme intermittently
with a solo clarinet and the violins
interpolate a lovely motif taken up
by bird-like voicing on the flute -
this is "love music", a courtship
between strings and horns. The subsequent
variations increase in tension until
the seventh which for me is the highlight
of the work – a poignant string quartet
followed by an idyllic harp and woodwinds.
Dan composed relatively little chamber
music although his final composition
was to be a piece for string quartet
entitled Black and Yellow. The
final three variations lead directly
from one to the next ending the symphony
on an uplifting note.
Dan leads an impressive
reading of this unique work and the
playing is that of a world-class ensemble.
Symphony #6 "Hiroshima"
(1985)
Twenty years were to
pass before Dan felt compelled to compose
another symphony. The occasion was the
40th Anniversary of the bombing
of Hiroshima on August 6th,
1945. Dan previously composed a symphonic
poem for mixed chorus and orchestra
entitled Nagasaki in 1974; now
he was once again to depict one of the
darkest and brutal events in human history
… In one instant, mankind would never
again be the same.
This work cannot be
compared with any of the preceding five
symphonies. This is very emotional music
incorporating a Nokan and a Shinobue.
These are traditional Japanese flutes
played masterfully here by Michiko Akao,
recognized worldwide as a pioneer of
the "Yokobue", having commissioned
over 100 works and having been awarded
the "Distinguished Artist Prize"
by the Japan Ministry of Education in
1982.
The first movement
(Andante ma non troppo, quasi andante
sostenuto) starts with the strings
and the nokan anticipating the impending
doom, briefly recalling Shostakovich’s
Symphony #8 as well as the "Agitato"
from Alfred Schnittke’s String Quartet
#2 from 1980. There is a
feeling of great sorrow here, a calm
sadness and serenity exchanged between
the nokan and the strings, the cellos
in particular – a heartbreaking melody.
The drums and cymbals interject; symbolizing
the harsh reality of the catastrophe
as the nokan reappears playing more
desperately. A charming melody offers
a brief, temporary respite – a melancholy
lament. The tragedy in this music is
undeniable and the movement ends with
the eerie, surreal wail of the nokan
fading into silence.
The second movement
(Allegro ritnico) begins without
a break, a kind of bizarre dance played
by the violins and cellos. The introduction
of Japanese folk music is especially
memorable – the shinobue playing a nostalgic
cadenza beautifully complemented by
the orchestra. This is a touch of humanity
amidst the atrocity and shortly to be
broken by the tolling of a bell.
The final movement
(Andante sostenuto e funebre)
commences with a dirge, a procession
with the nokan playing - not quite as
sweetly, but just as sadly. This music
grasps you very deeply and the effect
is quite profound – reminiscent of Tchaikovsky’s
Symphony #6. The exquisite Slovenian
lyric soprano Anna Pusar enters angelically,
singing in English, Edmund Blunden’s
poem "Hiroshima, a Song for
August 6, 1945":
Out of the night
that covered her
The stricken town began to stir,
Out of bewilderment extreme,
The fierce vexation of a dream,
She raised herself in parching pain;
And no man heard her once complain.
It seemed, for what was gone forever,
Speedily woke a new endeavor;
Out of darkness, out of fire,
Sprang new radiance, new desire;
The stricken city rose to see
Not was has been but what will be
Hiroshima! No finer pride
Did ever earthly city guide
Than yours, to be the happy nest
Where the glad dove of peace may rest,
Where all may come from all the earth
To glory in mankind’s rebirth!
This solo, so suggestive
of Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem,
undoubtedly crowns the work and underlines
the importance of the piece and its
ultimate message – the glorious resurrection
of a suffering city. The symphony ends
magnificently in affirmation.
It’s fascinating that
Dan chose to perform the text in English
– perhaps the sentiment and message
meant to be directed more westward than
eastward?
It’s also interesting
to compare this symphony with two of
the better known works composed on the
subject of Hiroshima – Masao Ohki’s
Symphony #5 "Hiroshima"
composed in 1953 and Krzysztof Penderecki’s
Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima
of 1960. Ohki’s piece, composed
only eight years after the event is
the more literally depicted and subjective
having much more in common in substance
with Penderecki’s work than with Dan’s.
Dan has the benefit of forty years of
history passing and transfiguring that
fateful day, while Ohki could still
"smell the blood on the land".
Whereas Dan’s effort ends with hope
and glory, Ohki’s ends with an elegy.
That being said, all
three works belong in any serious collection
and each is profoundly affecting and
moving in its own way.
Suffice to say that
these symphonies have been quite an
enriching and enlightening experience
with the playing of the Vienna Symphony
Orchestra consistently excellent throughout.
There is no doubt that Ikuma Dan’s works
warrant greater exposure and all enterprising
labels – specifically Naxos – should
not hesitate any longer. For starters,
1 and 6 would fit on a disc quite nicely.
And may I respectfully suggest to the
powers-that-be that they re-release
this set as an important historical
document?
Osvaldo Polatkan
Finally, here is a partial list of symphonic
works (many that have been recorded)
by Japanese composers you may find worthy
of further investigation:
Koscak Yamada:
Symphony in F major "Triumph &
Peace", 1912
Choreographic Symphony "Maria Magdalena",
1916
Sinfonia "Inno Meiji", 1921
Naguata Symphony "Tsurukame",
1934
Hisato Ozhawa:
Symphony #3 "Symphony of the
Founding of Japan", 1937
Qunihico Hashimoto
Symphony #1, 1940
Saburo Moroi
Symphony #3, 1944
Yasushi Akutagawa
Trinita Sinfonica, 1948
Ellora Symphony, 1958
Ostinato Sinfonica, 1967
Akira Ifukube
Sinfonia Tapkaara, 1954
Komei Abe
Symphony #1, 1957
Akio Yashiro
Symphony, 1958
Toshiro Mayuzumi
Nirvana Symphony, 1958
Mandala Symphony, 1960
Yoshiro Irino
Sinfonia, 1959
Minao Shibata
Sinfonia, 1960
Sadao Bekku
Symphony #1, 1961
Symphony #3 "Spring",
1985
Symphony #5, 1999
Teizo Matsumura
Symphony, 1965
Mareo Ishiketa
Sinfonia in Fa, 1966
Teruyuki Noda
Symphony #1, 1966
Shin-ichiro Ikebe
Symphonie pour grande orchestre,
1967
Symphony #3 "Ego Phano",
1984
Symphony #5 "Simplex",
1990
Roh Agura
Symphony in G, 1968
Shin Sato
Sinfonia #3, 1979
Takashi Yoshimatsu
Symphony #1 "Kamu-Chikap",
1990
Symphony #2 "At Terra",
1991
Shuko Mizuno
Symphony #2 "Sakura",
1991
Symphony #3, 1997
Symphony #4, 2003
Toshi Ichiyanagi
Symphony #5 "Time Perspective",
1997
Toshio Hosokawa
Hiroshima Symphony "Memory
of the Sea", 1998
Akira Nishimura
Symphony #3 "Inner Light",
2003
Anna Pusar (soprano); Michiko Akao (Nokan,
Shinobue) 
