Heiner Goebbels, Heinrich Biber
Roderick Williams (baritone), London Sinfonietta, Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, Sian Edwards (conductor) Queen Elizabeth Hall, London. 12.07.2007 (AO)

 

It was unfortunate that the South Bank linked this concert together with the recent Turnage About Water, not the finest work of an otherwise reliable composer. The contrast with Goebbel’s’ Songs of Wars I have seen could not be greater. So often genre-bending is self-conscious, veering towards pastiche even in the best hands. Goebbels’ work may defy classification, but it’s always grown organically from an internal synthesis of different influences, reflecting the way people absorb the influences around them to create their own vision of the world. An artist may present his take on something but it is up to the listener to engage with what he or she experiences : the end result isn’t simply the work of art but what happens to those who engage in it. He’s worked a lot in experimental theatre, for example. He’s very unusual indeed. Even in the heady days of the German avant garde 30 years ago, he stood out as highly original, his ideas even then pushing borders. The curse of genre-blending is so great, though, that it’s dominated the way people perceive his work, as if it’s not quite "serious" enough. The irony is that he’s not actually interesting in blending styles except where it makes specific points, such as in his Eislermaterial, a meditation on the life and work of Hanns Eisler. Goebbels’ knows his background material : in fact it was from him I learned about Eisler in the first place.

Songs of wars I have seen is based on the book by Gertrude Stein, a kind of wartime diary. Her stream-of–consciousness writing style, which mixes profound comments with trivia, repetition and convoluted syntax is surprisingly vivid – this is how real people think, without the self-censorship that comes when thoughts are neatly ordered for public consumption. It lends itself to Goebbels’ ideas on the nature of art. The world is full of contradictory images and influences, so it’s ultimately up to the individual to make sense of it. As he says, you can enter Stein’s writing at any point, taking from it what you will. Its meaning sinks in only obliquely. Even her haiku-like aphorisms leave room for interpretation. Thus listening and understanding is part of the creative process, you get what you put in, and each experience will be individual. He makes particularly good use of Stein’s conversational writing style, picking up in his music the natural flow of speech. Moreover, he specifies that Stein’s words are to be spoken by the musicians in the orchestra, not by trained actors. Their very lack of polish adds to the impression of authentic, "lived" experience, for the whole book is about how ordinary people cope in their day to day lives with momentous world events.

This intimacy is intensified by the use of dark and light on stage, and the kitschy table lamps that evoke the claustrophobia of Stein’s ostensibly cosy life. She represented everything the Nazis didn’t like, so she was effectively trapped in a genteel domestic prison. Goebbels underscores this by writing in an underlying background pulse. Sometimes it surfaces in tense clock-like ticking which grows ever more oppressive. Later it resurfaces when the voices chant in clipped unison, "Life & Death, and Death & Life, and Life & Death". It falls back also to a bizarre metallic hum. Occasional sounds like distant bombardment seem almost a relief from this disturbing undercurrent. Stein may skirt around the big issue by talking about her dog, but the reality is war, and it’s inescapable. So when Stein does talk of war, it’s even more telling. "History does not teach" says one voice. "Not all all !" the others chip in. Stein’s been reading Shakespeare and sees how the present is tied in with the past. Hence Goebbels uses musicians both from the Sinfonietta and from the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. It’s not a device, but is fundamental to the whole meaning of the work. Moreover, he bridges the genres with very sophisticated, subtle writing. Themes develop in one section before being taken over by the next. Sometimes there are explicit parallels, like the sackbutt solo, and the exhilarating long trumpet solo, played by Paul Archibald. But the music is always valid in itself, not merely colouristic. The trumpet solo, for example, is complex and deeply moving, full of inventive turns and detail.

The "chamber" music aspects aren’t there to be pretty, but to remind us of the "chamber" in which Stein is cocooned. Since these are extracts from Matthew Locke’s The Tempest (1674), they bring in additional vistas for the listener to absorb – the idea of past alive in the present, of Shakespeare being read by Stein in the middle of war, and indeed of the hellish maelstrom on which the plot of the original play pivots. This is not so much genre mixing, but integration, as the connections between early music and new music are closer than one might think. For example, at the end, nearly all the musicians are playing together a simple, primitive "world music" instrument, the Tibetan prayer bowl. It may be ancient, but the sound is exquisitely eternal.

This was the world premiere of Songs of Wars I have seen. It was so full of ideas that it will bear much repeated listening. The South Bank calls it a "Signature Concert". If that’s an indication of how they want to proceed, it’s exciting news indeed ! Saariaho’s Passion of Simone may be a bigger popular hit, but Songs of Wars I have seen may well prove to be more satisfying.

Earlier, we heard another Goebbels premiere, Schlactenbeschreibung, (Battle description) to a prose text by Leonardo da Vinci. With such a vivid subject, it’s fiercely dramatic, with jagged rhythms and intensely detailed textures. It comes from Goebbels’ opera, Landscape with Distant Relatives, which has been performed more than 20 times throughout Europe since its premiere only five years ago. It’s a telling reminder yet again of how we’re still "cut off from the continent" in this country in terms of music. Let’s hope that the South Bank will do something to redress that imbalance.

Just as Songs of Wars I have seen was a satisfying experience to listen to, it must also have been a lot of fun for the musicians to perform. Word has it that it was the players in the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment who chose the Biber Battalia a 10 in D, which introduced the evening. It was an inspired choice, partly because it, too, draws on images of war, but more significantly, it sounds surprisingly modern in context. The musicians may use conventional early music instruments but they expand their range by stamping their feet violently, playing col legno with frightening force and plucking strings so ferociously that they anticipate the famed "Bartòk pizzicato". Never let it be said that early music is tame !

Anne Ozorio

 

 

 

 

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