Vaughan Williams's Veranda

[vandermolen]

Most interesting!
I am close to listening to more RVW film score music, thanks to CDs which my colleague Dan offloaded unto me. I shall report.

The best single CD of the film music is the one on Naxos (from Marco Polo) in my opinion and there is a fine 3 CD boxed set of the film music on Chandos which was selling on the Chandos website for £5.00.

[kyjo]

Lately, I've become obsessed with RVW's Symphony No. 4.  It is so full of volcanic ferocity, where did so much darkness in it come from?

The first movement, right from the start, you're thrown into the world of motives that play an important part throughout. They don't just introduce themes, they crash into each other, interrupt, collide in minor seconds and ninths, and set the entire tonal vocabulary for the symphony. It sounds like something from the primal rage in the finale of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. There's an edge here that feels almost dangerous.

Opening X, z, y motives (excuse that in the audio, I am truncating ideas because he repeats or develops the motives and I just want to state them). 



The motives introduce material you'll hear throughout every movement, but also function as the first subject group, and mark out a harmonic sound world that's unlike anything else by RVW.  Notice the clash between D flat in the high register and C in the bass.  When the upper register lands on C, the low register rises to D flat.  The minor second and minor 9th are throughout this work and a harsh dissonance.

Transitions aren't smooth but are sudden, almost aggressive.  Motives frequently cut each other off. The movement's structure is broad: a fiery, intense presto followed by a calmer version of the second theme in contrast to fire that opens the movement. But even in the calm, the memory of those tense, biting motives lingers.

The second movement is an adagio.  It opens with a figure based on the y motif, spun out in a way that's both rhapsodic and enigmatic. The minor seconds and ninths are still at play, but here they create a kind of haunting nostalgia.  There's a stately ostinato (reminding me of Elgar's Symphony No. 1 opening or Saturn from Holst's The Planets), and at the end, a rhapsodic solo flute floats above distant trombone chords. It's the kind of ending that could have come straight out of Bernard Herrmann's scores for The Twilight Zone.  Eerie, beautiful, unresolved.

One thing to listen for: this opening "y" motif, with its major second and D flat over C natural (a minor ninth), isn't just a one-off. It's going to reappear, transformed, in the very last moments of the finale.

The third movement is a scherzo in three sections, again built from the z and y motives. This is where things feel genuinely unhinged. There's a fugato that's not just a technical exercise but a real dramatic buildup of multiple ideas.  Sort of an organized chaos.

What I love is the sense of propulsion here. The end of this movement doesn't so much resolve as it launches us head first into the final movement. It's a dramatic gear shift that reminds me of how in Beethoven's Symphony No. 5, the last two movements are joined together making the transition between movements very uncertain till you land with a major arrival point at the start of the fourth movement. 

By the time you reach the finale, you realize this isn't a symphony that simply recycles ideas. RVW takes motives z and y (from the opening), transforms them beyond recognition, and recalls themes from every previous movement. Some themes appear only in fragments at first but grow and develop until they finally emerge in full.

There's extensive use of ostinatos, melodic diminution, and truncation.  Sometimes a theme is stated, then its note values are diminished/halved, then it morphs into an ostinato, over which something entirely new emerges.  The harmony here is never settled. One striking moment: a theme previously in D flat returns in D natural, but with an A flat pedal underneath (which "should" belong to D flat). This creates a persistent minor second rub (A against A flat) that's practically the minor 2nd/minor 9th DNA of the whole work. 

At bar 309 of the last movement, a fugato starts where motives z and y (remember their minor 2nd/9th clash) join with a brand new theme from the final movement. These motives now serve as bridges, weaving earlier themes together in surprising ways. Beethoven did something similar, but here the device is used to create a wild and intense transformation.

The ending is the culmination of relentless thematic development, but now the tonalities of F major and F minor clash head-on. Motives x, y, and z, which opened the symphony, return with ferocity, only this time, the music is slower, angrier, almost imploding in on itself with a fiery thud.  The penultimate bar ends with a very loud and fast version of what started the adagio second movement. It feels volcanic.

Some afterthoughts.  I find myself wondering where all this rage came from. RVW famously said, "I don't know if I like it, but it's what I meant."  I think it must have been very shocking for the initial audiences who probably saw him as a pastoralist.  For all its tight structure and thematic cohesion, the symphony feels personal, almost cathartic like a creative outburst that's been building for years and he was working through these dark feelings without feeling the need to explain them.

I was also surprised to see how much sense the entire work makes.  How what I thought was a new idea was based on a motif stated at the start and that in the last movement as novel as it sounds, it is constantly bringing back material we heard before and rapidly switching from one movement to the next in a way that sounds cacophonous but makes so much logical sense when you look at it closely.  The main theme of the last movement is based on the enigmatic flute solo that ended the second movement but is virtually unrecognizable.  He poured a lot of thought into this work which might feel chaotic but makes so much sense.  This is a symphony with a deep inner logic and also an astonishing amount of creative cohesion that might not immediately be apparent.

I feel like a light bulb went off in my head as I listened to it several times over the past few days.  This was actually the first symphony of RVW that I heard when a kid.  It was on the first side of a cassette that featured both Symphony No. 4 and No. 5 by Adrian Boult.  I've probably heard it hundreds of times but feel like I suddenly understand it.  I don't think I've ever seen it programmed.  It is a volatile work full of urgency but is ultimately deeply moving.  I think it is a very unique result of personal creative burst. 

What a wonderful write-up of this symphony which manages to be simultaneously analytical yet accessible and engaging to the reader. You make me want to stop everything I'm doing and listen to it!

[Karl Henning]

An eight-number suite from RVW's score to Coastal Command.

Musically perfectly characteristic. Five of the eight numbers are pretty taut cues, ranging from 84 seconds to two and three-quarters minutes. but three numbers ("Dawn Patrol," "Battle of the Beauforts" and the "Finale" are three and a half minutes or longer.

[foxandpeng]

Lately, I've become obsessed with RVW's Symphony No. 4.  It is so full of volcanic ferocity, where did so much darkness in it come from?

The first movement, right from the start, you're thrown into the world of motives that play an important part throughout. They don't just introduce themes, they crash into each other, interrupt, collide in minor seconds and ninths, and set the entire tonal vocabulary for the symphony. It sounds like something from the primal rage in the finale of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. There's an edge here that feels almost dangerous.

Opening X, z, y motives (excuse that in the audio, I am truncating ideas because he repeats or develops the motives and I just want to state them). 



The motives introduce material you'll hear throughout every movement, but also function as the first subject group, and mark out a harmonic sound world that's unlike anything else by RVW.  Notice the clash between D flat in the high register and C in the bass.  When the upper register lands on C, the low register rises to D flat.  The minor second and minor 9th are throughout this work and a harsh dissonance.

Transitions aren't smooth but are sudden, almost aggressive.  Motives frequently cut each other off. The movement's structure is broad: a fiery, intense presto followed by a calmer version of the second theme in contrast to fire that opens the movement. But even in the calm, the memory of those tense, biting motives lingers.

The second movement is an adagio.  It opens with a figure based on the y motif, spun out in a way that's both rhapsodic and enigmatic. The minor seconds and ninths are still at play, but here they create a kind of haunting nostalgia.  There's a stately ostinato (reminding me of Elgar's Symphony No. 1 opening or Saturn from Holst's The Planets), and at the end, a rhapsodic solo flute floats above distant trombone chords. It's the kind of ending that could have come straight out of Bernard Herrmann's scores for The Twilight Zone.  Eerie, beautiful, unresolved.

One thing to listen for: this opening "y" motif, with its major second and D flat over C natural (a minor ninth), isn't just a one-off. It's going to reappear, transformed, in the very last moments of the finale.

The third movement is a scherzo in three sections, again built from the z and y motives. This is where things feel genuinely unhinged. There's a fugato that's not just a technical exercise but a real dramatic buildup of multiple ideas.  Sort of an organized chaos.

What I love is the sense of propulsion here. The end of this movement doesn't so much resolve as it launches us head first into the final movement. It's a dramatic gear shift that reminds me of how in Beethoven's Symphony No. 5, the last two movements are joined together making the transition between movements very uncertain till you land with a major arrival point at the start of the fourth movement. 

By the time you reach the finale, you realize this isn't a symphony that simply recycles ideas. RVW takes motives z and y (from the opening), transforms them beyond recognition, and recalls themes from every previous movement. Some themes appear only in fragments at first but grow and develop until they finally emerge in full.

There's extensive use of ostinatos, melodic diminution, and truncation.  Sometimes a theme is stated, then its note values are diminished/halved, then it morphs into an ostinato, over which something entirely new emerges.  The harmony here is never settled. One striking moment: a theme previously in D flat returns in D natural, but with an A flat pedal underneath (which "should" belong to D flat). This creates a persistent minor second rub (A against A flat) that's practically the minor 2nd/minor 9th DNA of the whole work. 

At bar 309 of the last movement, a fugato starts where motives z and y (remember their minor 2nd/9th clash) join with a brand new theme from the final movement. These motives now serve as bridges, weaving earlier themes together in surprising ways. Beethoven did something similar, but here the device is used to create a wild and intense transformation.

The ending is the culmination of relentless thematic development, but now the tonalities of F major and F minor clash head-on. Motives x, y, and z, which opened the symphony, return with ferocity, only this time, the music is slower, angrier, almost imploding in on itself with a fiery thud.  The penultimate bar ends with a very loud and fast version of what started the adagio second movement. It feels volcanic.

Some afterthoughts.  I find myself wondering where all this rage came from. RVW famously said, "I don't know if I like it, but it's what I meant."  I think it must have been very shocking for the initial audiences who probably saw him as a pastoralist.  For all its tight structure and thematic cohesion, the symphony feels personal, almost cathartic like a creative outburst that's been building for years and he was working through these dark feelings without feeling the need to explain them.

I was also surprised to see how much sense the entire work makes.  How what I thought was a new idea was based on a motif stated at the start and that in the last movement as novel as it sounds, it is constantly bringing back material we heard before and rapidly switching from one movement to the next in a way that sounds cacophonous but makes so much logical sense when you look at it closely.  The main theme of the last movement is based on the enigmatic flute solo that ended the second movement but is virtually unrecognizable.  He poured a lot of thought into this work which might feel chaotic but makes so much sense.  This is a symphony with a deep inner logic and also an astonishing amount of creative cohesion that might not immediately be apparent.

I feel like a light bulb went off in my head as I listened to it several times over the past few days.  This was actually the first symphony of RVW that I heard when a kid.  It was on the first side of a cassette that featured both Symphony No. 4 and No. 5 by Adrian Boult.  I've probably heard it hundreds of times but feel like I suddenly understand it.  I don't think I've ever seen it programmed.  It is a volatile work full of urgency but is ultimately deeply moving.  I think it is a very unique result of personal creative burst. 

Nice! Thank you