Heavenly Cow-Calls

One of the most wonderful new music experiences I had in recent years was hearing a radio broadcast of Swedish composer Karin Rehnqvist's refreshing Requiem Aeternam for chorus and orchestra of 2008 - a life-enhancing tribute to the dead if there every was one. 

A key feature of this work, which unfortunately remains unrecorded to this day, is its use of the old Scandinavian folk tradition of kulning - the calling of cows and goats down from the mountains. In the Requiem these herding calls (from sopranos and orchestra) echo each other magically, principally through the technique of canon. One of its movements - the seventh - grew out of a beautiful work for unaccompanied treble/women's chorus and soloists from a decade earlier called I Himmelen ('In Heaven's Hall'). Here the memorable folk-style tune, canons and herding calls achieve a luminosity I hope you will find as pleasurable as I do. Amateur choirs seem to love it to. Please try it.

The Bachs of Sweden

In my seemingly ceaseless pursuit of unfamiliar music a fleeting question entered my head: "What did Swedish Baroque music sound like?" So I decided to try and answer it. In the process I stumbled upon a modest Swedish equivalent of the Bach dynasty - namely the Düben family. 

The composers on the family tree seem to begin with Andreas Düben I (of whom I have heard no music) and continue with his two sons, Martin Düben (c.1599-1649) and Andreas Düben the Elder (c.1597-1662). The latter's son, the exceptional Gustaf Düben the Elder (1628-1690), fathered two further composers, Baron Gustaf von Düben the Younger (1660–1726) and Baron Anders von Düben the Younger (1673–1738). Four generations then - at least three of them in the service of the Swedish monarchy - and one composer at least whose name needs spreading far and wide . 

Both Martin and Andreas Düben the Elder pupil of the influential Dutch master Sweelinck (about whom I've been meaning to do a post for some time), so good things should be expected from them. They are classed, like their father, with the North German organ school (which Sweelinck helped to found). The only piece I've been able to lay my hands on for you by Martin is, appropriately enough, a Praeambulum for organ - a piece that is pleasing unpredictable in some of its harmonic progressions. A few works of Andreas Düben the Elder have also survived. He is the man credited with bringing the influence of Sweelinck to Sweden, so it's not surprising to find a chorale fantasia, Wo Gott der Herr nicht bei uns hält, in his output. As is usual with this form, the phrases of the chorale melody, elaborated, are set amidst contrasting yet complementary music and (perhaps inspired by the echo fantasias of Sweelinck) there are charming echo effects too. We also have a Suite of courtly instrumental dances. Andreas also wrote music for the funeral of King Gustavus II Adolphus in 1634, His Pugna Triumphalis is for double-choir and shows that the Gabrieli revolution in Venice was well  and truly established in Sweden. It is revealing that by the time of the five-part Miserere mei Deus, written for the funeral of King Charles X in 1660, the style has become recognisably mid-Baroque and shows a Monteverdian influence - albeit in a plainer, more direct manner. 

With Gustaf Düben the Elder we come to the man who seems to me to be the Johann Sebastian of the Düben family. In his attractive organ Suite (which can also be heard in this version for harpsichord), we see the effect of the standardisation of the German-influenced Baroque suite into its familiar key movements - Praeludium, Allemande, Courante and Sarabande. Bach would later compose many a work build around those forms. The prelude is dropped but other three remain in his Suite for strings. Both works are full of melodic appeal and have unexpected rhythms and phrase lengths that keep them fresh. We have quite a bit of vocal music from old Gustaf. For starters he wrote a catchy hymn tune of his own, Jesus är min vän den bäste ('Jesus is my best friend'), but also wrote a beautiful setting of Fader vår ('Our Father') - a work I heartily recommend to you. Just as fine is his motet Surrexit pastor bonus. If you like the music of Monteverdi and Schütz you should also enjoy these excellent pieces. The wonders of this unfamiliar mid-Baroque Swedish master continue to grow when you encounter his spiritual songs, a selection of which can be heard here. These are of remarkable quality. I would single out Tröstesång ('Comforting song') as being a particular delight. (Now that's one catchy tune! Now where have I heard it before? Oh yes!!)

What then of Gustaf's sons? Well, unfortunately I can't find any music by Gustaf Jnr. There's not much I can offer you from Anders either, other than his contributions to the Narvabaletten - a ballet written to commemorate King Charles XII's victory over the Russians at the Battle of Narva in 1700.  There's a Choeur des guerriers, a Marche pour les Suédois and an Entrèe pour les Colèriques. What else was young Anders capable of?

And there the musical line ends. Alas. 

Swedish Rhapsody

The Northernmost nations of Europe all seem to have a clear candidate for their country's greatest classical composer. The Finns have Sibelius, the Norwegians have Grieg, the Danes have Nielsen, even the Icelanders have Leifs. The exception is Sweden. Some would say their greatest classical composer is the glorious early Romantic Franz Berwald, others the late Romantic Wilhelm Stenhammar. (Only adding the word 'classical' puts Benny Andersson out of contention!) More rarely, a claim goes in for another late Romantic, Hugo Alfvén (1872-1960). He's the composer of a piece that seems to have a place in Swedish music that, say, Smetana's Vltava has in Czech music, or Sibelius's Finlandia in Finland, or Enescu's Romanian Rhapsody No.1 in Romania: the Swedish Rhapsody No.1 (Midsummer Vigil). 

This is a tuneful symphonic poem depicting the magic of Midsummer night in Sweden, where darkness barely falls and people love to party!

It opens with a tune many of you will recognise - a bright and breezy one on clarinet, played over pizzicato strings and to the accompaniment of a wind drone. It's got a folk-like quality that proves to be characteristic of the themes of the Swedish Rhapsody.  (The American country music guitarist Chet Atkins took in up, and it was also featured in an episode of The Simpsons). Other woodwinds join in, ending with a bassoon, before the orchestra as a whole belts out the tune with enthusiasm. It's then given a bit of symphonic development as the partying begins to get into full swing. Solo woodwinds, with a definite hint of tipsiness, introduce phrases from the next theme, which the brass then take up and begin to run with. This is another very catchy, vigorous tune that once heard isn't easily forgotten. (Does it remind anyone else of that Christmas perennial, Stop the Cavalry by Jona Lewie?). It lends itself to contrapuntal treatment and a rather drunken fugue breaks out as a result, climaxing riotously. It dies away, suggesting the crowd of revellers temporarily dispersing, as fragments of the main theme are heard. 

A slow, quiet passage, presumably painting in sound the brief fall of darkness, adds a touch of Wagnerian harmony to what is a piece whose prime influence is, very obviously, Grieg. A cor anglais, with help from the harp, then adds the flavour of romance with a beautiful new melody, somewhat wistful in character. A solo horn continues the romance before the strings shimmer with the light of the returning day, climaxing in a depiction of sunrise. This is a gorgeous passage. The painting above, by the composer himself, captures some of its mood. 

The people re-begin the merriment with another new tune - a charming, light-as-a-feather one, initially scored as if it had come straight out of a Tchaikovsky ballet but soon bursting out into celebration. A final folkdance-like tune, first sounding very much like one of those hardanger fiddle tunes by Grieg, accompanied by a heavy drone effect, bursts in and carries the partying to a heady conclusion.

The Swedish Rhapsody is so full of good tunes and so well constructed that its popularity is easy to understand. 

Outside Sweden, Alfvén isn't known for much else. The Elegy from his incidental music to Gustav II Adolf is the other piece you are most likely to hear. It's very much in the same vein as Grieg (in elegiac mood) and is, I hope you'll agree (if you click on the link), a lovely piece of music. 

You might also have come across the ballet suite, The Mountain King (Bergakungen). This score occupies much the same territory as Grieg's Peer Gynt, with its trolls and herd-maids - and not just in its story. My favourite here is Summer Rain, where romantic warmth meets impressionism and delightful scoring. The other movements are winning too, with a lively piece of Tchaikovsky-like Rococo charm in the outer sections of the Herd-Maid's Dance, plus a grotesque Trolls' Dance and another lovely evocation of a Swedish Midsummer's night (which follows straight on from the Trolls' Dance link).

This is all cheerful, entertaining music - far from the spirit of Ingmar Bergman. I'm sure there is a more serious side to Alfvén's music (and I hope to explore it) - given that he wrote five symphonies - but what price seriousness when you can get such pleasure from the lighter, brighter side of music?