|
British Open Championships 2003
Some thoughts on Venus & Jupiter – Open test piece - by
Stephen Roberts
The arranger of this years set work gives his thoughts on
the two movements that will be used for this years Championship.
The two movements of the Planets chosen for this year’s
British Open Championship were both written in the autumn or late
part of 1914, almost exactly 99 years ago. They are therefore chronological
neighbours, so it is fitting that they be paired together.
There were also several performances of Venus, Mars and Jupiter
prior to the complete premiere in 1920, thus setting some precedent
for this mini-suite. Unfortunately it was not possible to programme
three movements because of time constraints. Jupiter, though, was
frequently used as the finale for the many incomplete performances
during Holst’s lifetime, since it is the only movement, other
than Mars, that finishes loudly.
It is typical of the quiet, frail and Mercurian character of Holst
that he should finish many of the movements quietly. He was not
a bombastic person and always upheld the belief that to “be
a success” was detrimental to the musical altruism of a serious
composer. With this in mind it is interesting to compare the tempi
noted down in Holst’s score, as well as the actual tempi he
takes in his two recordings, with the tempi of other conductors.
Generally speaking Holst’s tempi are faster than anyone else,
as if he were determined not to be self indulgent with his own music.
In Venus he takes the opening at crotchet = 62, whereas most conductors
take a tempo somewhere in the early 50s. Likewise at the opening
of Jupiter Holst takes it at a rollicking crotchet = 144, whereas
many conductors prefer a more sedate 118 beats per minute.
It is fair to say that many composers are not necessarily good interpreters
of their own music, and, of course, one person’s tempo can
sound rushed and another’s comfortable, even though they are
taken at the same absolute speed. Imogen Holst stated that the tempi
taken on the Holst recordings, even though they sometimes sound
hurried, were more or less the same as those he took during performances,
so it makes interesting listening.
It is well known that the astrological inspiration behind the Planets
was Alan Leo’s book What is a horoscope and how is it cast?
Thus the movement titles reflect the characteristics described in
Leo’s book. However the title Venus: the Bringer of Peace
is somewhat different to the attributes assigned by Leo, who wrote
“the beautiful planet Venus is considered the most fortunate
star under which to be born. This is owing to the even disposition
and refined nature of those under this planet’s influence.
It will awaken in them the affectional and the emotional side of
their nature, making them very devoted to those they love. It will
also give them a keen appreciation of art and beauty, and stimulate
all the pleasure-loving inclinations.”
There is a strong emphasis on the sensuous side of Venus, and the
Holst’s notion of pure “peace”, as outlined in
his title, belies the almost erotic nature of this movement. The
opening horn phrase suggests the sensuousness of Weber’s Oberon
and the constant insinuation of the key of Eb, without actually
reaching it (until bar 116) reflects the eroticism of Wagner’s
Venusberg music from Tannhauser. However Holst’s emphasis
is really on beauty, rather than overt eroticism, and there is an
inherent beauty in peace and tranquillity that cannot be denied.
After the opening horn phrase the answering contrary motion triads
lead to an interrupted cadence into Db minor. From an arranger’s
point of view this was hard to score. The horn opening must remain
in place, but the answering chords are on high flutes and oboes
in the original. They have to go down an octave, which displaces
their relationship to the horn part. Also the contrast in colours
of flutes and oboes in blocks is lost, and the contrapuntal clashes
become much less magical down the octave. The use of mutes helps
ameliorate this conundrum. Incidentally the descending phrase, which
mirrors the horn, is also the germ for the famous “I Vow To
Thee” melody in Jupiter. Put those first three notes backwards
and there you have the seminal motif for that tune and the anapest
(short, short, long) fanfares, which make up the other melodies
in Jupiter. I’ll come back to that later.
Holst repeats these two ideas, this time with an interruption into
Bb minor, then the basses take up the horn phrase to create a long
Bb pedal over which repeated chords drift slowly upwards. This chordal
section is pivotal in creating the formal structure of the movement.
It occurs three times, with the final occasion being extended to
caress the movement to a peaceful close. The sensuality of these
repeated note sections lies in the way Holst implies dominant 9ths
and also in the wonderful use of the flattened fifth dominant substitute
in bar 15. (This use of the flattened 5th counteracts the use of
the semitone in Mars. Here it is used as a sensuous progression,
whereas in Mars it is used to create warlike tension.) Each time
Holst presents this idea in a subtly different way, with the final
presentation going through a cycle of fifths, again in a most sensual
manner.
(These passages also foreshadow those of Neptune where the dominant
7th harmony is diatonically transformed.)
In between these sections Holst creates expressive melodies featuring
solo instruments. These may well emanate from the opening motif
of Mars – a rising 5th followed by a falling semitone. Examine
bar 46, and similar, were the motif of Mars is inverted into a descending
5th, followed by a falling semitone. Whereas in Mars the motif falls
in on itself, in Venus the motif unfolds outwards as a peaceful
refutation of the instability of war.
At times the melodies of the second main section are in danger of
being almost sentimentally romantic. But Holst keeps everything
lofty by applying the most beautiful bittersweet chromatic harmonies,
which in themselves underline the sensual qualities of his Venus.
The transition passages between key changes are particularly noteworthy
and well worth studying by those interested in harmonic progressions
based on linear shifts. Look, for instance, at the passage from
bar 68 onward, with its linear shifting of notes to move from F
major, through B major over a Db with a Bb in the melody, to an
augmented C sharp chord with a D in the melody, through to Bb major
over C and finally resolving into A major. The all-important falling
semitone is the telling interval here, and the technique employed
by Holst to arrive at these piquant progressions. Even today they
still entice our aural senses.
It is not until bar 116 that we finally arrive at Eb major, although
Holst has teasingly implied it from the start. It’s all part
of the sensuality of the movement and Holst prepares the resolution
in a melodic way too. The euphonium solo (cello in original) repeats
the descending 5th phrase, caressing it almost like the repeated
figure we are about to hear, but this time there is no semitone
and the motif resolves peacefully and simply into Eb. Now the descending
triads we heard in answer to the horn at the beginning are not interrupted,
but allowed to flow, and then Holst weaves his cycle of 5ths until
the gentle close floats up into the atmosphere, leaving an added
6th shimmering above.
Interestingly enough, Holst’s tempo in this final section
tends to be slower (at 52 bpm) than most conductors, as if he were
underlining the sense of resolution and peace.
From the arranger’s point of view I believe Venus was the
hardest movement to transcribe, because of the many colours Holst
uses, and the fact that so much of it is in a high tessitura. Holst
was a fine, economical orchestrator and he owed much of his skill
through playing trombone in orchestras and learning from the inside,
as it were. I tried to reflect the luminosity and transparency that
Holst achieves by emulating his use of primary colours. Thus there
are many solos for the principal players of the band, in particular
the soprano cornet because of its tessitura, and the flugelhorn,
because of its sensuous tone.
One of the hardest colours to emulate was that of the solo violin
in bar 32. In my version the soprano takes on that role, and, where
the melody is taken over by all the violins, I added the flugelhorn
an octave lower to generate more overtones. To have added all the
solo cornets that high up would have sounded strained, to say the
least! This is always one of the problems when transcribing for
brass band – there is a fairly restricted upper limit compared
with orchestra or wind band.
Turning to the planet Jupiter, Alan Leo describes it as the bringer
of “an abundance of life and vitality” and ascribes
further attributes to those born under its influence including,
“ cheery, hopeful, noble and generous of spirit”. Holst’s
title, The Bringer of Jollity, nicely sums up those various qualities.
He could have used Joviality, after Jove, the other name for Jupiter,
but preferred the richer meaning of jollity and avoided any association
with mythology.
Holst’s Jupiter is rich in content presenting us with those
many qualities described by Leo. The opening, derived from those
three notes I mentioned in Venus, immediately sets up a feeling
of vitality and Holst’s recorded tempo of 144 bpm is very
fast. The piling up of the three-note motif acts as an energetic
backdrop for the first main theme, which is notable for its syncopated
vitality. Holst uses six horns in his score, as well as violas and
cellos to create a sonorous attribute of nobility. Fanfares, using
the interval of the fourth in anapest rhythm, build to a head, heralding
the almost Gilbert and Sullivan-like melody with its oompah accompaniment
at bar 65.
The first three notes of this theme also contain the three-note
motif of the opening and all bandsmen will recognise the stepwise
descending bass line so much beloved of Holst (cf A Moorside Suite).
Incidentally, in bar 75, I have omitted part of the ascending semiquaver
run for practical reasons because it would have to start too low,
or else ascend then have to step back down again, which would ruin
the flourish.
At bar 108 Holst introduces what might be termed a second subject.
This is a merry folk dance in triple time. The tempo of this is
marked crotchet equals crotchet, but even Holst notches up the tempo
a little to give the dance a jaunty feel. In bar 116 the horns break
into what I always think of as jolly laughter with their arpeggio
triads. At bar 140 the trombones introduce a countermelody based
on the Andante theme yet to come. Round and round the folk dance
goes, increasing in texture and intensity, until the sobering interruption
at bar 156.
It is as if Holst is calling us to sobriety and order and this bridge
passage leads into the hymn-like melody so beloved by everyone.
Here, at the Andante, the three-note motif is heard once again,
this time transformed into something noble and uplifting. Holst
could write a good tune and this one, though it has an Elgarian
quality, more correctly expresses the “noble and generous
spirit” rather than the pomp and circumstance of the added
words “I vow to thee etc.”
In a formal sense this Andante section could be regarded as the
substitute for a development section. Holst does not develop in
the Beethovenian sense – that was part of his modernism –
but there are elements of sonata form in this movement in that it
has two contrasting main themes which return, subtly transformed.
The coda is a richly textured revisiting of the Andante theme in
the surprise key of B major, hinting at G sharp minor.
The final flourish steps up a semi-tone into the bright key of C
major, with the opening three-note motif transformed into fanfaric
fourths, and the syncopations of the first main theme vigorously
asserting themselves.
Flugelhorn players among you will notice that I use this instrument
quite often as a substitute for the orchestral trumpet. This is
to create a tonal contrast against the cornets, which are often
sounding string or other parts. To use the same sound colour would
not create the tonal contrast so manifest in the original. I also
found, listening to early recordings, that the tone of the trumpet
in Holst’s day was rather mellower than the strident, short-tubed
instruments we hear today, and that allowed me licence to follow
my instinct. To recreate the sound of six French horns I often add
euphoniums and even flugelhorn and baritone to the tenor horns where
balance demands.
On other occasions I have used mutes for tonal contrast, for instance
at bar 172ff where the bassoons in the original create a gruffness
which would be too heavy on trombones or other brass. I have never
tried to literally ape the original by, for instance, using a muted
cornet to imitate an oboe, or other such literal nonsense. It is
important to recast the source material so that it sounds as if
it were originally written for the new medium. To do this one must
disassemble the original and put it back together again in a reconstituted
form.
Years ago I used to service my own car, a Morris Minor. On one occasion
I took the engine apart, replaced the offending parts and reassembled
it. To my horror I discovered several nuts and bolts, which I had
omitted to replace. With trepidation I turned the ignition key and,
thankfully, it all worked fine. In a sense a band transcription
of a great orchestral masterpiece is rather similar. There are bound
to be some nuts and bolts missing, but hopefully it will work and
give enjoyment and opportunity for bandsmen and women to partake
of the musical riches on offer.
© Stephen Roberts 2003
© 4BarsRest
 back
to top
|
|
