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Inspired by Trees
Updated on February 2, 2019
Frances Metcalfe first learnt to read music at the age of four and is a
retired peripatetic music teacher specialising in the violin.
Source
Way back in the Devonian period, between 416 and 358 million years ago,
the first trees emerged, dominated by Archeopteris.
After a flood in New York (a few hundred years ago), fossilised evidence of
ancient trees was discovered. Unfortunately, they were only the stumps
and it wasn't possible to work out how the tree would have looked. But, in
2004, another tree trunk and crown from the same area was able to offer
up more information on how it would have appeared. It was similar to a
large palm tree and probably reproduced by spreading spores.
It was the beginning of ecosystems as we know them. For the first time,
trees stored carbon, changing the soil composition and contributing to the
stability of the land. More importantly, the removal of carbon dioxide
allowed the emergence of a wide variety of creatures, and set the Earth on
the colonised pathway we are familiar with today.1
After the of the caves a breath of fresh air is welcomed. At The Pines of the
Janiculum, the Janiculum being one of Rome's seven hills, the silvery
timbre of the strings illuminate the pines under moonlight. Respighi
controversially called for a recording of a nightingale to be played at the
end, at least in 1924 it had that effect2, but it joins in as a beautiful adjunct
to the movement.
From the first beat the heavy marching footsteps of the Roman army are a
constant as The Pines of the Appian Way throbs its way in splendour and
triumph. Unyielding and unceasing, the pine sentinels stand guard along
the route as the soldiers proudly enter Rome.
Johann Strauss II 1825-1899
Photograph taken in 1888 by August Eisenmenger. | Source
The 500 acre Vienna Woods lie northwest of the Austrian capital and is a
UNESCO Biosphere reserve.
The aria Sotto una quercia parvemi is unmistakable Verdi. Written for the
tenor voice, it begins with a dramatic declamation before moving forward
to melodious reflection supported by the violins, culminating with a small
cadenza showing off the tenor's fine vocal skills.
Stopping by at the lime tree, the piano's rapid figuration illustrate the
rustling leaves, but it can also be interpreted as a character in its own right,
the piano acting the part of the tree. The ooh-ooooooh call at the end of
these fast triplets is the tree calling - the young man admits in the song he
is drawn to it by the sound of the quivering canopy. The young man tells
how he carved his feelings for his former love into the bark of such a tree.
As the music turns moodier, the traveller rues how he stumbled on another
Lindenbaum in the pitch black cold of night, the wind blasting his face.
Schubert returns to the major key, the outcast can still hear the trembling
leaves several hours later, agonises over it, then it fades away. His hat has
blown away, but there is no going back, even to retrieve it.
Albert Roussel
Photograph of Roussel in 1913. | Source
Hints of Debussy glint here, but Roussel's voice has a rich texture all of its
own, atmospheric and warm.
Cypres et Lauriers came about as a result of the First World War, written
hard on the heels of the end of hostilities in 1919 to mark the signing of the
Treaty of Versailles.3
Mourning the huge sacrifice of life the organ plays solo, full of angst a
weeping melody hued with the minor third drop heard throughout eastern
music - cypresses are famously found in hotter climes, reaching for the
skies.
The dirge gives way to proclamation. To watch Lauriers in the concert hall
is nothing short of dramatic, a fanfare from first two, then no less six
trumpets bolstering the idea that the catastrophic loss of life was all worth
it.
A triumphal fugue hails, parts striding in one after another weaving a mesh
of solidity between allies, sweeping to an exultant conclusion worthy of
something the Russian authorities might have demanded - a mighty
musical mask of rejoicing, in an effort to convince those who came through
it that no matter what horrors have been endured, it's time to get out on
the streets, put up the bunting and celebrate.
Popular belief has it that Jesus's cross was made of the cypress tree. It's
often used for coffins and in ancient Greece, soldier's ashes were placed in
cypress wood urns.
Germans were fond of nature, conversely killing it off with their love of
hunting, two elements combined in Schumann's Waldszenen. Numbers
two and eight are dedicated to the activity of hunting, Jäger auf der Lauer
(Hunters on the Lookout) and Jaglied (Hunting Song). The first is a frantic
chase through the forest, the blasts of the hunting horn in evidence.
Jaglied, by contrast is a cheery frolic making merry in the woods hunters
are so fond of.
After the end of World War II, the Russian steppes needed to be reforested
and Shostakovich's cantata - sometimes referred to as an oratorio - was
written to celebrate this undertaking using peoms by the Russion poet
laureate Yevgeny Dolmatovsky.5
It's written for traditional choir, boys' choir, solo tenor and bass plus a
large orchestra. It had, naturally to be on a grand scale commensurate with
the esteem in which the Soviet hierarchy held themselves.
From the opening pastoral style of When the War Ended you'd be hard
pressed to pin it down as Shostakovich. He affords himself only occasional
flashes of his real self throughout the whole work. The solo bass sings what
is in essence as lullaby,, lush strings and soothing chorus ministering to a
population still stinging from the ravages of war, giving it a large hug - it
will be alright in the end.
The music turns back on itself for the next section, Memories of the Past.
The people aren't able to simply sweep aside the mental trauma of the war.
This is more of the Shostokovich we know and love. Reminders of his fifth
symphony darken the atmosphere. Hardship and suffering is at the heart
of this movement.
So what better than to introduce the boys' choir at this juncture for the
next poem - The Pioneers Plant the Forests. Get the next generation
involved. Very folk-song like, the boy scouts lightly accompanied by
trumpets marching alongside and we are straight into the world of
Shostakovich's Festival Overture.
The People of Stalingrad are in a joyous fervent mood. Almost too happy,
there is the underlying element of a slapstick number from a musical,
something not to be taken too seriously - so forgive me if it's all surface
water, let's not swim out too deep and see what's really down in the depths.
Instead they look up. A Walk into the Future follows - the walk an amble
into the newly forested homeland, the bass prophesying a green and
pleasant land, good for the soul, the choir joining in to present the vision
as, to all intents and purposes, a hymn and on into the Gloria, albeit a
secular one.
The Glory takes its time, bringing all together for the common good, a
mixture of brassy affirmation and childlike naïvity. The tenor and bass take
the stage as leaders of the pack and fisinshes with a seld satisfied expanse
of well being.
A virtuoso pianist - he played for Lizst - many his compositions are for the
instrument, the New England Suite being one of them.
To an Old White Pine is the seventh of the ten in the set, dark and a little
sad, as if the tree is coming to the end of its days. Essentially it's a salon
piece, short and accessible to the competent amateur pianist, just the job
for evening entertainment at the turn of the twentieth century.
If you are a lover of trees, then you almost certainly like flowers. Why not
read my article by clicking on the link.
The white pine, 'pinus strobus', grows in Canada and Eastern America.
McDowell would have been familiar with it as it is the provincial emblem
for Maine and Michigan.
If you are interested in trees why not read more of my articles featuring the
natural world by clicking on the link:
3 Gramaphone
4 Imakelma