Anniversary Programme I

Contrapuntal craftsmanship
The Dutchman Jan van Vlijmen can undoubtedly be qualified as belonging to a group of some of today’s most important composers who trace their lineage from Bach by way of the Second Viennese School up through Boulez. His Sextet, written in 2000 and commissioned by the Schoenberg Quartet, demonstrates to what extent he is a part of this tradition. Moreover, one should note that no other work of comparable substance has been written for this group of instruments since Arnold Schoenberg’s string sextet Verklärte Nacht, which dates from 1899 (!)-with the exception, that is, of Erwin Schulhoff’s rediscovered Sextet, another work on this programme. A characteristic of Van Vlijmen’s Sextet, which is over half an hour long, is that it is a true sextet and, therefore, not a “filled in” string quartet with the addition of two instruments in the lower register. While the interaction of two trios is a remarkable feature of Schoenberg’s Opus 4, one is struck in Van Vlijmen’s Sextet by the recurring presence of solos, duets, and trios-in every possible combination and to the extent that the guest players fulfil an extremely important role within the ensemble as a whole: a whole in which canons and inversion take centre stage and the time-honoured practice of writing counterpoint is flamboyantly paid homage. As the piece continues, the number of tutti passages increases, these culminating in fascinating episodes of a “coagulated” if not rigid character. The result is a fascinating alternation between moments of tension and release, which remind the listener not only of Van Vlijmen’s string quartet Trimurti but of his monumental orchestral/vocal four-part Quaterni as well. Although no pauses delineate the various sections of the Sextet, the finale is by far the longest of these. The core of this complex, polyphonic movement, which is interrupted by numerous intermezzi, is made up of a menacing and regularly staggered unison theme. In terms of rhetoric, the music calls to mind Reger’s titanic fugal finales, while the short and frenzied conclusion-preceded by an exquisite, desolate episode-could have served as the model for the conclusion of Berg’s Opus 3.

Last breath
In contrast to Van Vlijmen’s Sextet, the score of Valentin Silvestrov’s First String Quartet, completed in 1974, looks anything but traditional. This work could never have been written without the examples of Ligeti, Lutoslawski, Cage, Feldman and other important post-war composers. This work, however, is just as traditional as Van Vlijmen’s Sextet if not more so, albeit in a somewhat more concealed manner. By this, I refer not so much to the chorale-like theme-or better yet, the residue of a chorale-like theme that forms a framework for the whole piece and constitutes a thread that runs throughout the composition-but rather to the unique sonority in relation to the use of a language of expressive gestures. This sonority particularly involves the high registers of the various instruments as well as the way the thematic material is at times reduced to an exceedingly sparse gesture, comprising very few notes. Silvestrov’s quartet, which is sometimes reminiscent of the sound world of Webern’s Sechs Bagatellen, is similar to the last pages of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, a work in which the melodic development is progressively curtailed until, during the final measures of the closing adagio, nothing but the mere suggestion of a melody remains. The same is true for the chorale theme, which most resembles a last breath for which a prayer must be substituted at the close of Silvestrov’s First String Quartet. This exquisite musical fragment by this unique Russian composer serves as a perfect example of sublimated nostalgia.

Expressionist gestures
Characteristic of Erwin Schulhoff’s music is the saturated sound world and gestures of expressionism. The Sextet is undoubtedly one of his works that was most inspired by the Second Viennese School. The opening section immediately and almost involuntarily calls Alban Berg’s name to mind-to such an extent as to imply that this score could have lain next to that of Berg’s Lyric Suite. In reality, however, Schulhoff’s Sextet dates from 1924 and the Lyric Suite from two years later. In any case, the similarity between the opening of Schulhoff’s Sextet and that of the Presto delirando of the Lyric Suite is astounding, so much so that one is inclined to wonder if Berg was in some way familiar with the manuscript of the Sextet. Another connection to Berg is the free use of twelve-tone elements-the first movement again illustrating this perfectly, its opening theme containing all twelve tones. A three-year gap lies between the composition of this movement and the three that follow. During that period, Schulhoff concentrated on neoclassicism, as did many of his peers. Unlike many of his contemporaries, however, he successfully avoided a sterile and “cosmetic” style, provocatively combining expressionist, neoclassical and folkloristic ingredients and transforming these into a flamboyant whole. An unmistakable example is the short but rousing Burlesca, the third movement of the Sextet. Another matter altogether is the pre-eminently mysterious concluding episode of the finale, which could well have been written by Debussy.

Maarten Brandt