Lecture: to what extent can what Plato tells us about the Good, the True and the Beautiful be translated into concrete technical terms

According to Plato’s Allegory of the Charioteer, the Good, the True and the Beautiful are to be found outside of the earthly atmosphere. The gods can go there and thus behold these phenomena as they truly are, whereas we mortals can as a rule only perceive them through a mist of our views and dogmas, our taste, the Zeitgeist, etc. Plato’s words, however, imply (among many other things outside the field of music) that the quality of a given composition is determined by elements that transcend our subjective perception. This in turn implies that the Good, the True and the Beautiful ought to be the central issue in studying composition.

When we limit ourselves to the classical music of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, we have material at our disposal that helps us understand in concrete terms why their music is simply better than the music of for instance Johann Christian Bach or Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf, and enables us to pinpoint the difference in level of quality in their scores. Charles Rosen’s brilliant book The Classical Style and Edward Lowinsky’s eminent article On Mozart Rhythm deserve special mention here.

An interesting question now emerges: to what extent could it be possible to pinpoint similar concrete things in music from other times? A problem here is that the more we progress in time, the less we can apply rules about things like harmony, counterpoint, form, etc., because at some point such things were found to be too limiting. While abandoning more and more any clearly demarcated ‘rules’ has greatly expanded our possibilities and our fantasy, the downside of this is, that we have lost what consensus there was about elements that were ultimately meant to help us steer a composition toward the Good, the True and Beautiful. Composers are more and more on their own, in this respect. The absence of clearly defined rules, however, does not imply that anything goes. The ultimate goal of composing has always been and will always be that each and every note is at the right place.

Although I cannot pretend to have any definitive answers to the abovementioned fascinating question, as I am no Greek god myself, raising the question itself is thought-provoking, and I do derive some conclusions from what Plato wants to make us clear.

I think, in composing there are two basic categories of quality criterions. There is a level where everything simply needs to be right; like a carpenter needs to be able to make skilful use of his tools and other materials, and what he produces should reflect this. When a composer has reached this level, ideally speaking he can then function in society like a Salieri or a Dittersdorf could function in their time. Beyond this, there is a higher level with less tangible criterions, where not everything needs to be perfect, but whatever is good helps to enhance the impact of the composer’s music.

Things that belong to the first category are for instance: notation, basic writing for the instruments; and in traditional music: harmony / counterpoint, voicing, etc. In the second category we encounter things like phrasing, harmonic rhythm, alternation between sections with and without chords, etc. I will here give some examples, taken from my own music, to demonstrate how a change in this field can improve the overall musical impact.

With all this in mind, in my lecture I compare a few fugues of Czerny (fugues, because these belong to his output of what he himself called his ‘serious’ music) with fugues by Bach and Mozart. My conclusion is that Czerny isn’t just ‘all right’ at level one, he is absolutely brilliant – and much underrated. However, when you look beyond this, you can perhaps pinpoint a few things where he maybe doesn’t quite reach the level of Bach or Mozart.

I also compare the second symphony of Ernst Krenek with the second and fourth of Dmitri Shostakovich; two compositions that were written in an idiom where seemingly anything goes. This comparison also reveals some interesting differences in impact.

I also present a number of excerpts – in condensed score – from recent compositions for wind orchestra. I demonstrate where things appear to go wrong and, where possible, I show how to correct such errors. This proves to be easier than looking at the music of Krenek vs. Shoatakovich, because here the general musical idiom is much more traditional, which implies that the rules belonging to such an idiom can to be applied here, at least to a certain degree.

The nearer we approach the present time, the more difficult it seems to pinpoint what is objectively good or not so good in a composition. Therefore, when dealing with music from the 20th and 21 st century, I limit myself to looking just at ff tutti orchestration of orchestral scores. There are several reasons for this. One: the orchestra as it is today has developed in the course of several centuries. The difference in loudness between especially brass and percussion on the hand and strings on the other has become something a composer needs to deal with in a correct way. And it is relatively easy to see what is correct in this regard and what isn’t. Two:  ff tutti sections tend to be high-points in a composition, so it is all the more important that they sound well. Investigating this, it appears that there is a relation between orchestration as such and the notes chosen to orchestrate.

What is the ultimate goal of (composing) music? In his Republic, Plato states: what should be the end of music if not the love of beauty? (Book III, verse 403) A dangerous thing to state, these days, and if you are of the opinion that this is still valid today, you will have to explain this (I do so in my article Music and Spirituality). Plato also makes it clear that, according to him, music is nourishment for the soul. Also here I agree with him, to the extent that we humans indeed have an immortal soul, and that therefore composing good nourishment for the soul has nothing to do with trivialities like Zeitgeist or personal taste and everything with the pursuit of the timeless phenomenon beauty.

March of Iskahdar – Khan. Version for Wind Orchestra, Op. 81a

So far co-commissioned by[1]:
– The Banda “Asociación Amigos de la Música” de Yecla
– The Dutch Koninklijke Militaire Kapel Johan Willem Friso
– Harmonie Sint Gregorius, Haaren
Dedicated to Ángel Hernández Azorín and the Banda “Asociación Amigos de la Música” de Yecla

There is also a version for fanfare orchestra, Op. 81.  

[1] This composition is a crowd funding project. I also wrote a version of it for fanfare orchestra, and for € 250, you and / or your orchestra can become one of the commissioners of either version: you will then be mentioned in this preface to the score as a co-commissioner. If you feel like participating, please contact me at hallo[at]eduarddeboer.org.

Youtube:

Premiere performance by the Banda Asociación Amigos de la Música de Yecla, conducted by Ángel Hernández Azorín, Sunday April 8, 2018 in the Auditorio Victor Villegas, Murcia.

INTRODUCTION

The point of departure for this composition has been Uzbek traditional music. Before starting composing, I immersed myself in the book Ocherki po istorii muzyki narodov SSSR (Essays about the music history of the peoples of the U.S.S.R) by Viktor Beliaev, edited by Mark Slobin. In this book’s chapter about Uzbekistan, I encountered the following fascinating march theme:

In folk tradition, this march was called March of Iskahdar-Khan. In Central Asia, Iskahdar-Khan was the name given to Alexander the Great. This somehow inspired me. In addition, I transcribed a few traditional Uzbek dances from recordings on YouTube. Here is an excerpt from one of them:

The total of these musical ‘ingredients’ led me to write a composition with a rather simple, but at the same time dark and menacing atmosphere. After a relatively slow introduction, the music becomes ever fiercer in a series of successive waves, until a climax is reached, culminating in a few bars of solo percussion. This is followed by a lamenting variant of the march theme, after which the composition reaches a stark conclusion.

Eduard de Boer, December 21st, 2016

Hommage aan Johan Wagenaar (Homage to Johan Wagenaar). Concertouverture voor orkest (Concert Overture for Orchestra), Op. 74 

The Homage to Johan Wagenaar is a concert overture—a genre in which Johan Wagenaar himself composed some of his most successful pieces—cast into a sonata form mould with a slow introduction, making use of themes that have been derived from various compositions by Wagenaar himself. In the score, these pieces are mentioned next to the various themes. Simultaneously, the composition has been modelled on the life story of this important Dutch composer, who lived from 1862 till 1941.

YouTube:

00:00 Introduction. The composition starts with an atmospheric slow introduction, immediately introducing the primary and secondary themes of the ensuing Exposition.

00:41 The fairytale-like atmosphere is reinforced by a theme in the horns, derived from Wagenaar’s symphonic poem Elverhoï (number 1).

00:56 Johan was an extramarital child from a patrician and a housemaid, which caused him a lifelong struggle with inferiority feelings. The themes of respectively the aristocracy and the common people from the first act finale of Mozart’s Don Giovanni musically express the class difference between his parents (number 2).

01:17 At number 3 finally, the music gradually becomes more turbulent.

01:44 Exposition. The turbulence leads to the exposition of the primary theme (number 4), not without reason derived from Wagenaar’s overture The Taming of the Shrew: As a child, Johan has a vehement nature and he is difficult to handle.

02:45 However, once his musical talents have been discovered by a musician from the Utrecht City Orchestra, he receives a thorough musical education, into which he submerges himself with his inborn vehemence. This is being expressed by a fiery fugato, starting at number 9.

03:36 Soon the music quiets down, leading to the

04:06 secondary theme (number 12). This has been derived from the love theme from Wagenaar’s overture Cyrano de Bergerac: Johan meets Dina, the love of his life, and they start a relationship.

06:04 Development. Suddenly, a furious variant of the aristocracy’s theme appears (number 17): Dina’s parents are vehemently against a marriage between their daughter and Johan, who not only is a bastard child, but on top of that also a mere musician. This theme starts a musical conflict with the Taming of the Shrew theme.

06:55 When Dina’s parents finally force their daughter to return to the paternal house, far away from Johan, a time of sadness and loneliness follows. In number 21 we hear a lamenting variant of the common-people theme from Don Giovanni,

08:43 in number 23 followed by motives from the Taming of the Shrew theme.

09:43 (Inverted) Recapitulation. Years later, Johan encounters Dina again (number 25). In the meantime, her father has died and Johan has acquired some status, so this time it turns out that it is possible for them to marry. 11:07 Both are unified in marriage (number 29),

11:57 and for Johan a time of musical triumphs follows (number 33),

12:32 during which he finds support in a happy marriage (number 35).

I feel honoured to have been able to write this musical homage to what I consider one of the most important composers the Netherlands has produced.

Symphony Nr. III ‘A Tribute to Komitas’. Version for Symphony Orchestra, Op. 65a

I. Recollections                    attacca:
II. April 1915                        attacca:
III. Grief                                attacca:
IV. Eternal Peace

Dedicated to the commemoration of the great Armenian bard Komitas

In April 1915, the Turkish government started to carry out a long standing plan to exterminate most of the Armenian people living in Turkey. The execution of this plan has become widely known as the Armenian genocide. One of the many victims of the gruesome atrocities that took place during this genocide is the great Armenian ethnomusicologist, musician and composer Soghomon Soghomonian, better known as Vartabed (Father) Komitas, who lived from 1869 to 1935. Together with several other prominent Armenians, he was arrested on April the 24th, 1915, and transported to Chankiri in Central Anatolia. Some weeks later, he was released and brought back to Constantinople. However, he couldn’t cope emotionally with what he had experienced and witnessed.

Soon, the first signs became apparent of what we would now call a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, a disease still unknown at the time and therefore neither diagnosable nor treatable. He got into such a deep state of depression that his friends decided to take action. Against his will he was brought to the Hôpital de la Paix, a Turkish military hospital in Constantinople. Unfortunately, his emotional condition worsened to such a degree, that his friends decided to transfer him to a private clinic in Paris. For financial reasons he was later moved to the cheaper state institute Hôpital Villejuif, where he spent the remaining thirteen years of his life. He died in 1935, 66 years of age, as a result of a bone infection. The destiny of his creative legacy was no less tragic. The majority of his manuscripts was destroyed or got lost.

For a very long time I nurtured the wish to write a large-scale composition that in some way reflects all this, as a tribute to the great Armenian bard. During many years, I collected lots of sheet music and recordings of Armenian folk music, much of which notated by Komitas. Contact with the Dutch Marine Band about a new piece to be written for them provided a fresh impetus for realizing my wish, which eventually led to the Dutch Fund for the Podium Arts NFPK benevolently granting me two commissions for a symphony in four movements: one for the first two movements, and later a subsequent one for the third and fourth movements.

The entire symphony is based on motives from compositions by Komitas and on Armenian folk melodies, as notated by him, complemented with motives from Turkish folk tunes. The events of 1915 play an important part in the whole of the symphony, and are at the heart of its second movement. The division in movements is as follows:

  1. Recollections    attacca:
  2. April 1915           attacca:
  3. III. Grief               attacca:
  4. Eternal Peace

I. Recollections. During composing, I imagined Komitas in the Hôpital Villejuif looking back on his life until April 1915. In the sombre slow introduction there are two principal melodies: Ervum èm (Mourning song) and Lord, have mercy from his Armenian liturgy Patarag. Also, bits from a threatening sounding Central Anatolian tune are announced. And a glimpse from Komitas’ carefree Song of the Partridge  people familiar with music for wind orchestra will know it from Alfred Reed’s Armenian Dances  is heard, too. In the ensuing Allegretto, Komitas’ song Garun (Spring) and the movements Unabi and Marabi from his cycle of six Armenian dances for piano are the principal themes. In essence, this music has a friendly and delicate atmosphere, but ever again an element of tension and threat emerges. Now a forceful Allegro follows, in which several themes are being treated from a different perspective, reflecting conflicts and violence prior to 1915. Finally, the musical material is recapitulated. This time, the music never succeeds in recapturing the friendly and delicate atmosphere that was sometimes realized earlier on. There is more anguish and grief now, and the movement ends on a sombre note..

II. April 1915. Allegro barbaro. The Anatolian melodies that had already been indicated in the first movement, are at the heart of this movement, complemented with a Turkish tune for the zurna, an instrument that Komitas hated because of its shrill sound. At times, Komitas’ Ervum èm breaks through, and at one point, his Lord, have mercy is predominant.

III. Grief. Here, Komitas’ Lord, have mercy is the central theme, alternated with his famous song Krunk (The Crane), a song of an expatriate, an Armenian in the Diaspora, asking the crane if he has perchance any news from his motherland.

IV. Eternal Peace. Principal theme here is Komitas’ Et-Aratsch from his six Armenian dances for piano. His Song of the Partridge, featuring fleetingly in the first movement, now serves as a secondary theme. To me, Komitas comes across as having a very gentle nature and a refined taste. I imagine that he has found rest and peace in the hereafter. Since this isn’t possible without total forgiveness, I have taken the liberty to let the Anatolian melodies that appear in the first and second movements return at the end of the symphony, now in a peaceful and harmonious atmosphere.

Publisher: Opus 33 Music

There is also a version for symphonic wind orchestra, Op. 65 (Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SA0DrmYppt8).

The Sound of Music by Richard Rodgers. Free Adaptation for Soloists, Female Chorus and Chamber Orchestra

Text: Oscar Hammerstein II, Dutch translation by Daniël Cohen
Commissioned by Joop van den Ende Theaterproducties B.V., for the Dutch National Tour 2002 – 2003

Youtube:
Playlist of selection, audio only:

With video:
My Favorite Things:

Do Re Mi:

Sixteen going on Seventeen:

How can Love survive

http://www.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-00wcFhIJqE

Edelweiss

So Long, Farewell

Maaike Widdershoven; Hugo Haenen a.o.; Women’s choir and chamber orchestra of Joop van den Ende Theaterproducties, conducted by Robbert van Steijn