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Creativity in motion: The artistic legacy
of Ferruccio Busoni
As we leave behind the specialised militant tendencies prevalent
in certain influential musical circles at the end of the last
century, it is refreshing to consider the potential for inspiration
which the great Italian-Austrian composer, pianist, conductor,
author and teacher Ferruccio Dante Michaelangiolo Benvenuto Busoni
(1866-1924) can offer society today. That he was one of the greatest
figures as an executant in the history of the piano has long been
established, but his towering achievements as a re-creator, prophetic
essays and his sonorous Bach transcriptions have always over-shadowed
his compositional output. Initially it was as though many could
not contemplate such a consummate pianist being at least equally
gifted in another discipline, but as composers began to group
into 'schools' or follow militant manifestos, Busoni's compositional
cause became unfairly isolated. Mud has an unfortunate tendency
to stick, and even today critics in reputable journals can make
appallingly clumsy evaluations and conclusions with regard to
this composer, describing his music as 'expressionless expressionism',
'eclectic', 'rambling' 'cerebral', 'cold', 'faceless' and so on.
Like Stravinsky, Busoni had extraordinary dreams, and in one
he recalled that there was a figure far in the distance- so far
apart from the crowd that the group cried out that the man in
front did not have a face. I believe that we are at last beginning
to catch-up with Busoni's visionary outpourings, and that the
face he presents to the 21st century is far from anonymous. His
idea of 'Young Classicality', which he described as 'the mastery,
the sifting and the turning to account of all the gains of previous
experiments and their inclusion in strong, beautiful forms', is
as relevant to composers today as ever. In a remarkable essay,
Jeremy Eicher recently wrote that 'Busoni was the first significant
composer to wrestle with the problem of inheriting all the styles....
He was an artist besieged by the multiplicity of options. His
problem was very much the problem of the composers of our time:
How to forge a unique style when everything seems available.'
In fact, Busoni has been seen as a symbol for the highest integrity
and effort for generations, and Edward Elgar once tellingly described
him as 'the musical conscience of the age'. But if we are to begin
a truly just appreciation of Busoni, we must shed ourselves of
many pre-conceptions and orthodox lines of thought. Just as Schubert's
large-scale Sonata movements required new analytical approaches
for appreciation and understanding, so too does Busoni's compositional
output. The main purpose of this article is to provide a few anchor
points and ideas for new explorers, as well as to hopefully inspire
curiosity and interest in the values which Busoni himself so strongly
believed in.
Confusion will initially rein in evident triumph after a cursory
glance over the 'major'solo piano compositions of Busoni. Often
the first impression is one of bewilderment and disorientation,
as though several works by other, familiar composers have nearly
been quoted in any one movement, or as though the music is existing
in the twilight of a glorious summer, refusing to share more than
hints of the sunshine that was. Here is a composer who rarely
attracts instant adulation, but who's music can entrance and captivate
to an extraordinary degree -given time. At first it may be that
only a few bars of ravishing subtlety will linger on in your mind,
like the evocation of bells at the beginning of Doktor Faust,
or the 'misticamente, visionaro' passage in the Intermezzo of
the 'Fantasia Contrappuntistica', but from such slim beginnings
many have found that much more follows. The idea of gradually
falling in love with music may be an unattractive one to our age,
accustomed as it is to instant gratification and immediate sensationalism.
One can also understand why those who expect European composers
of the late nineteenth century/early twentieth to indulge in post-Wagnerian
histrionics may find Busoni rather reserved. Be that as it may,
the only way to begin a just appreciation of any work of art is
to judge it on its own terms, and that requires a significant
shedding of prejudice in Busoni's case. If a listener is patient,
on each re-hearing he will discover new beauties throughout the
catalogue of Busoniana. In fact it isn't an exaggeration to say
that every mature composition and transcription contains its share
of secrets. Busonians may be a minority of connoisseurs within
the minority which is the concert-going public, but the music
inspires a fierce loyalty and devotion from all who are touched
by it. The works seem to grow in stature the more familiar they
become (of course it is often the reverse, sadly, with many other
composers).
Most of the best known Busoni works can be found in a Dover Edition,
(Mineola, 1996) which includes the Stuke, op.33b (1896), Fantasia
Contrappuntistica (1910), Six Sonatinas, (1910-20), Seven Elegies
(1907), 'Fantasia nach Bach' (1909),and the Red Indian Diary (
1915). Many of the remaining compositions in Busoni's prolific
output are published by Breitkopf & Hartel and include, in
chronological order, the 'Suite Campestre', op. 18 (1878), Sonata
in F minor op. 20a (1880), 24 Preludes op.37 (1881), 'Variationen
und Fuge in Freier Form uber Chopin's C moll Praludium' (version
one: 1884, version two: 1922), Vierte Balletszene in Form eines
Concert-Walzers, op. 33a (1894), Op. 30a Klavierstucke (1891,
rev. 1914)'Nuit de Noel' (1908), 'Fantasia nach Bach' (1909),
An die Jugend (1909), Drei Albumblatter (1917), Toccata (1920),
'Perpetuum mobile' (1922), 'Sieben kurze Stuke zur Pflege des
Polyphonen Spiels' (1923), and the 'Prelude et Etude en Arpeges'
(1923). For two Pianos there is the 'Improvisation uber das Bachsche
Chorallied 'Wie wohl ist mir, o Freund der Seele' (1917), which
is a re-working of the second violin sonata of 1898, as well as
a version of the Fantasia Contrappuntistica, and transcriptions
of Mozart, whilst the repertoire for piano and orchestra ranges
from the D minor Concerto of 1878 for piano and strings, to the
later 'Red Indian Fantasy' (1915), the 'Concertino. Romanza e
Scherzoso' of 1921, as well as the much earlier Konzertstuck (Introduction
and Allegro)op.31a of 1892, and of course the legendary and enormous
five movement 70 minute long 'Concerto per un pianoforte principale
e diversi strumenti ad arco a fiato ed a percussione', op. XXXIX
of 1904! As you've probably guessed from this rather crude summary,
the Busoni opus number classification is very confusing, but fortunately
the new Jurgen Kindermann classification (K numbers) of 1980 is
gradually gaining wider usage, even if re-prints still often fail
to acknowledge this system.
Whilst the tactile pleasure, exquisite attention to detail, eloquent
pianistic layouts, memorable melodies and intriguing structures
can immediately be appreciated in all of the compositions listed
above, the sheer range of what is on offer, even within a single
work or cycle of pieces, can leave a would-be Busonian bewildered
and uncertain. Take the Seven Elegies (1907) as a case in point.
Though Busoni had written several hundred compositions before
these extraordinary miniatures, he insisted that they be regarded
as a 'new beginning', coming as they did immediately after publication
of his visionary pamphlet 'Sketch of a New aesthetic of Music'
in which, amongst other things, he prophesised the emergence of
electronic music and the subdivision of semitones.
But those who might expect a uniform essay in iconoclasm similar
to Schoenberg's opus 11 Klavierstucke in the Elegies will be sorely
disappointed. On the contrary, after the initial movement, ('Nach
der Wendung'(recueillement)), which fluctuates in free tonality
remarkably, beautifully and subtly from C to F sharp major), Busoni
offers in bravura style a re-working of material from the second
movement of his Piano Concerto of 1904('All'Italia!'), a transcription
of 'Greensleeves', ('Turandot's Frauengemach', a piece which he
had already used in his orchestral 'Turandot' suite and which
would later re-appear again in his opera of the same title in
1917), and a neo-Bachian Chorale Prelude, which at times sounds
Brittenesque in its use of harmony and which would later be used
in the 'Choral-Vorspiel und Fuge' of 1912 as well as all versions
of his Fantasia Contrappuntistica from 1910 onwards('Meine Seele
bangt und hofft zu Dir'). The cycle continues with two movements
which would eventually re-appear, transformed, in the epic comic
opera 'Die Brautwahl' (1911) after a story by E.T.A. Hofmann ('Erscheinung',
a sonorous nocturne, and 'Die Nachtlichen' a waltz which exploits
exotic and altered scale patterns in extraordinary ways) and concludes
with a deceptively simple, exquisite lulluby ('Berceuse') which
would eventually be utilised as a sketch for his orchestral masterpiece,
'Berceuse Elegiaque' (1909).
The enormous stylistic gamut evident in the Elegies is also apparent
in the Six Sonatinas (contrast the closeness to atonal Schoenberg
in the second sonatina with the neo-Mozartian clarity of the third,
the 'back to Bach' polyphony of the fifth with the neo-Lisztian
bravura in the sixth, also known as 'Chamber-Fantasy on Bizet's
Carmen'), and most of the other cycles. Though there are many
'Busoni finger-prints' which are consistent and strong throughout
the catalogue, ( a love of major-minor harmonic fluctuation, painstaking
gauging of voicing and chordal balancing, a frequently subtle
polyphonic tendency, a move towards compression and an avoidance
of repetition in the late works, extensive use of the middle pedal,
exquisite craftsmanship, an Italianate love of melody, a preponderance
of bell-like sonorities, eloquent avoidance of hysteria and bombast,
usage of symmetrical counterpoint as advocated by the theorist
Bernhard Zein in his treatise 'CanonicStudies', etc), the impression
many are left with is of an artist who only had time to hint at
possibilities for the future in works from 1907 onwards, whilst
previous to that many of the compositions seem to come too easily,
as though Busoni was profligate with his compositional gifts,
expanding many a score into a time scale which posterity would
find hard to justify.
Such criticism is extremely unfair, simply because if you divorce
Busoni's 'compositions' from the rest of his artistic legacy,
especially his 'transcriptions', a complete picture can never
be evident. The catalogue of Busoni arrangements is almost as
extensive as the catalogue of his compositions, and even the quickest
glance through the often grossly neglected transcriptions in his
output shows that Busoni was not one to meekly re-assemble notes.
His essay 'Value of the transcription' expresses the view that
transcriptions are as 'original' as variations on a theme of another
author!
Quite often Busoni's penetrating intellect produces astounding
discoveries in his arrangements, especially those based on works
by Bach where all kinds of new imitative lines, voicings and spacings
of chords can shed extraordinary wisdom on notes which may have
appeared very familiar beforehand. In the case of the most radical
re-workings, such as the celebrated transcription of the Chaconne
from the Violin Partita in D minor, it is as though Busoni has
renovated a beloved edifice,decorating it with glorious romantic
upholstery. The result is a wonderful ambiguity, a unique janus-faced
structure which is at once of the baroque, the romantic, and the
future. We have a 'commentary' on Bach guaranteed to give academics
apoplexy, and one which would later lead to the thirty minute
long Fantasia Contrappuntistica, a work of ferocious virtuosity,
stamina and difficulty which is partly radical 'transcription'
of sections from Bach's 'Art of Fugue', partly futuristic thoughts
and extensions on the transcribed material. Why classify this
extraordinary work in the list of 'compositions' whilst relegating
the Chaconne to the list of transcriptions?
Murray McLachlan
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