then we saw the stars again

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Sheherazade.

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I’ve been wanting to resume the series for a while now, but life has this unknowable knack for getting in the way, and while I’ve been trying to work on new music as well, there simply didn’t seem to be time to devote to this project.
Now, as I transition from one continent to the next, and while what remains of my studio is slowly being shipped to Toronto, I take advantage of this break to start a new weekly program. No podcast for now, because, of course, my microphone is in the middle of the Atlantic as I’m writing this… but you’ll still find an excerpt to download, and some youtube clips to watch the whole piece. It’s quite amazing what you can find now if you search for a bit.

I’m starting with this Russian cycle for a few reasons. The composers that I’ve chosen represent a clear transition from one period to the next, as they take elements of the XIXth Century Romantics and inject a new dimension of modernity into their music. And as much as the early 1800s belonged to the Germans, the Russians really led music into the XXth Century.

I’ve also been giving some thought about the nationality of music. Where is music really from? Can you say that Mogwai is essentially Scottish, and Mono unmistakably Japanese? Music speaks of origins, currents are formed and languages are honed and refined, and few composers managed to express their attachment to their native land as comprehensively as the late 1800s Russians did. And first in line was Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov.
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Five young Russian composers came together in the early 1860s in Saint Petersburg. They were not professional musicians by trade, in fact, all of them still had day jobs and they retained them well into their established musical careers. But they bonded over a certain dissatisfaction with Western music and its emulation amongst the Elites of the Russian conservatories. They wanted their music to feel more genuine, to exude national feelings, to evoke Eastern landscapes rather than the imitation of a Western court.
Chief among them was Balakirev, but the youngest of the lot would eventually make one of the Russian Nationalists’ most enduring pieces.

Sheherazade is Rimsky-Korsakov’s best known work, and it displays all the aesthetic elements brought forward by The Five: use of oriental modes, increased presence of fourth and fifth intervals that eschew the clear distinction between major and minor, inclusion of folk and peasant tunes, and a strong, visual, musical language. Sheherazade is, for lack of better words, an Epic piece of symphonic music, a Fantasy based on middle Eastern legends and themes, the soundtrack to a film that we can all conjure up in the confines of our mind.

Not that Rimsky-Korsakov did away with every stylistic concept developed in Western music. Roughly speaking, Sheherazade is a typical Romantic symphony: 4 movements strongly articulated around 3 main themes, a slow and thunderous first and second movements, a lyrical and more playful third movement, and a majestic conclusion afterward.
However, the main symphonic structure is there to serve a purpose, a program. Each movement is a suggested reading from the 1001 nights: The voyages of Sindbad, the story of the Kalendar Prince, the story of a young Prince and a young Princess, and a final scene in Baghdad containing all the previous characters. And as such, the tonal color displayed by the orchestra ranges from the menacing to the suave, the sensual to the terrifying.

There are many melodic passages throughout the four movements which can be seen as a succession of solo instances, fleeting images reminiscent of the Orient and of forgotten lands. And Sheherazade, represented by a beautifully sensual violin motif, ties all the episodes together, weaving in and out of the musical narrative until the conclusion of her own story. After all, stories are the only thing keeping her alive, for fear of upsetting the Sultan and meeting the same tragic fate as all his previous wives.
The Sultan finally concedes to sparing her life after hearing her stories every evening for 1001 nights, and the finale of the fourth movement couldn’t have expressed this better: both musical themes meet and end the piece on a quiet, peaceful, major chord.

It’s easy to see how a work like this paved the ground for the next generation of musicians: Debussy, Ravel, Shostakovich and Prokofiev all professed a huge debt to Rimsky-Korsakov and his use of texture and harmony, for integrating folk tunes and odd modal schemes into a musical grammar that was becoming too stifling for innovation.
But his was an innovation that never sacrificed melody, feelings, or accessibility. Through his brand of Russian nationalism, Rimsky-Korsakov simply combined the best of both Worlds.

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Sheherazade has remained a consistently popular work, and the list of good recordings is quite exhaustive. I grew up listening to the Karajan version, and you can sample its first movement in this post (follow the link at the top). Some critics dislike the slightly slower tempo and the overarching solemn tone of the orchestra, but I have a hard time getting used to a more sprightly version! Besides, there is something genuinely terrifying about a Sultan who will execute you if you can’t manage to tell him a good story every night.
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The Dutch conductor Arthur Arnold has a version with the Moscow Philharmonic on Youtube. The cuts between videos don’t correspond to the separation between movements, and it hampers the listening, but it’s always a joy to watch an orchestra working its magic. Enjoy:

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