When composer Nigel Westlake's 21 year old son was suddenly and tragically killed in 2008, he didn't think he'd be able to write music again.  An entire year went by before Westlake realized he couldn't spend the rest of his life stuck in grief.

Walking back into the studio again after so much time, he found a previously written piece lying on his desk called Missa Solis.  He'd forgotten about the piece and began thumbing through it again, finding an old Italian poem he had put to music about the sun.  It reads, "My joy is born every time I gaze at my beautiful sun, but my life dies when I cannot look at it. For the very sight is bliss to me. Oh sun, immortal life giver, do not hide, for I know that when I am unable to see you, life could not be worse."

In his current grief stricken state, the context changed.  All he could think about was his son, the similarities to the sun could not be ignored.  He began to write and work again, using this poem as a starting point. Daily his work became like therapy, a way to put the spirit of his son to rest.

The orchestral requiem premiered in October 2011 with the Sydney Symphony, but has just recently won Australia's Orchestral Work of the Year.

The work is in 8 movements, lasting 44 minutes. It really is breathtaking, and I encourage you to listen to it in its entirety.  You can watch video from the premiere from BigPond.com by following this link.

The titles of the movements are as follows: Prologue, At the Edge, Song of Transience, Aurora, Nasce la gioia mia, Hymn to the Atan, Sidereus Nuncius, and O Sol Almo Imortal.  


Some of the themes are less subtle when dealing with death, as the Song of Transience which is an excerpt from the Tibetan book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche. There is a solo in this movement, by a young male treble singer. I couldn't help but think of Westlake's own son as the boy sang.  To read more notes from each movement visit this website written by Westlake himself.

If you cannot listen to the entire orchestral work, YouTube does have snippets from the 5th movement and the final movement.  You can hear the climactic choral section below, interspersed with percussion that reminds one of fireworks or gunshots. Just when you think it is over a sudden quiet and peaceful ending with the strings section occurs, symbolizing a laying to rest.


Once again, from death, art has been created. I'm grateful to artists like Nigel Westlake for courageously allowing us to experience the process.

*photo from the Australian Broadcasting Network piece on Nigel Westlake. 

I must admit that Bedrich Smetana (1824-1884) is not one of those composers I go around mentioning or hear brought up in conversation much. In fact, the name didn't even sound familiar when I first started researching this piece. However, his 'Piano Trio in G minor" is familiar, and the story of it's inception is worthy of a post for this blog.

Departures (2008) is a Japanese film that is a must see for those in the palliative care field. I first learned of it from a family member of a patient I was caring for. The son felt it so necessary that I see the film that he acted out part of the movie, dropping to his knees to act out a scene while I was rounding.

Franz Schubert was a gifted composer who died tragically young. Easily considered among the "greats" of composers, Schubert contracted syphilis in 1822 at the age of 25. He continued to compose, even as his health deteriorated. Many say that the works of his last 2 years became very dark, showing a deeper sense of spiritual awareness, and even a sense of the "beyond".

At the age of 20, Schubert put to music a poem by Matthias Claudius entitled "Death and the Maiden". The lied portrays a maiden begging for death to pass her by, and Death trying to persuade. The words from his song and Claudius's poem are as follows:

Maiden:
Stay away! Oh, stay away!
Go, fierce Death!
I am still young, please go!
And do not touch me.

Death:
Give me your hand, you beautiful and tender vision!
I am a friend, and come not to hurt you.
Be of good cheer! I am not cruel,
You will sleep softly in my arms!

This theme of Death and the Maiden is seen in art as well as music. Usually death is portrayed seducing or tempting a beautiful maiden. The idea that death would be a temptation began earlier in the 1400's when death was portrayed in the Dance Macbre, playing an instrument, luring people to death. Perhaps if Death was a temptation, then humankind could avoid the temptation, and avoid death? Death and the Maiden as a theme also conjures up a feeling of vulnerability in youth, as well as beauty. It leaves us with the feeling that life is fleeting, as beauty can be.

Schubert did an interesting thing. In 1824, a few years after his syphilis diagnosis, as his own mortality became central to himself, he re-worked his original Death and the Maiden lied into a string quartet. The theme, while similar to the original lied, takes on a very agonized and at times urgent tone. We might surmise the urgency he himself felt as he became more ill.

Listen first to the earlier lied by Schubert. This video from YouTube of Marian Anderson singing has a classic Death and the Maiden art image shown in the middle. (For email readers click on the post's title for re-direction to the original to see the video)

Second, here are two short videos I've done from the later string quartet. You'll notice the words from the original lied placed in the video, as well as suggestions to what you're hearing. The first is the maiden and the second Death answering. Hopefully you'll appreciate the dramatic difference in the earlier lied and later quartet and notice that the theme of "Death and the Maiden" took a very personal turn for Schubert.







A few short years later Schubert did die. He was only 31. It is believed he died from complications for syphilis, though some believe he may have died from mercury poisoning, which at the time was the standard treatment for syphilis.

We've taken time in past posts to explore composers who have used their music to explore themes of grief in their personal lives. This grief is usually directed at someone close who has died, or the composer's own mortality as they are diagnosed with a life limiting illnesses. It is rare that composer's have been lucid enough on their deathbed to actually compose a piece related to their dying experience.

Johann Sebastian Bach, is one such rarity. Born in Germany in 1685, JS Bach is considered one of the greatest composers in Western tradition. He began his musical education at the age of 10, when he moved in with his eldest brother, after both of their parents died.

His composing style, in the Baroque form, was considered "old fashioned" by his contemporaries. However, his skill as an organist helped gain him fame while he lived. His most well known works include the Brandenburg concertos, the Well-Tempered Clavier, Mass in B Minor and Toccata and Fugue in D minor.

Medical historians have pieced together a probable medical course through examination of letters, portraits, etc. It seems that Bach had a minor stroke around 1746 which contributed to some facial palsy and vision loss. By the end of 1749 he was no longer writing music but dictating all of his compositions. He had 2 eye operations in March and April for complete blindness, which were unsuccessful. In mid-July 1750 he had yet another stroke with a complicating pneumonia. In the hours prior to his death he was said to have regained his complete vision (or perhaps was "seeing" the unseen as often occurs in the last days of life). He died July 28 1750 at the age of 65.

His last composition was completed on his deathbed. He was blind, had just had yet another stroke, suffering respiratory complications from the CVA, and yet lucid enough to somehow communicate his final piece. The piece, started prior to the stoke, was a chorale prelude first known as "When we are in Deepest Need". It was in those last days that he finished it and changed the title to "Before Thy Throne I Now Approach."

The piece in itself isn't complex like a multi instrument symphony. The lone organ plays both melody and harmony. Listen to either the entire 4 min piece on YouTube below, or the video clip of just the ending. In the short clip I've added my own thoughts on what's being heard in the melody and harmony.






References:

Breitenfeld, Tomislav; Solter, Vesna Vargek; Breitenfeld, Darko; Zavoreo, Iris; Demarin, Vida (2006-01-03). "Johann Sebastian Bach's Strokes"Acta Clinica Croatica (Sisters of Charity Hospital) 45 (1)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Sebastian_Bach

Knowing the context of a composition can transform the listening experience, especially for classical music, that has no words. Such was the case for me when I heard a brief history of Gustav Mahler's 9th symphony prior to listening to the Chicago symphony preform it. Perhaps you will say the same after this post.

Let us look at an intricate interconnection of events that eventually leads to the final complete symphony of Mahler. First we must look back to a German poet named Freidrich Ruckert. In a 2 week span Ruckert lost two of his five children to scarlet fever, Luise age 3 and Ernst age 5. As a way to grieve their loss he wrote a series of 425 poems in a collection called "Kindertotenlieder" or Songs on the Death of Children completed in 1834. These were of a private nature, and only published after his death in 1872.

Gustav Mahler came across these poems and found in them an inspiration for composing his own 5 song cycle entitled Kindertotenlieder (1901-1904). This was an unusual time for Mahler to be writing songs about children dying. He had just married Alma Schindler in 1902, and the birth of two daughters soon followed: Maria Anna(1902) and Anna (1904). Many found it difficult to understand his ability to be interacting with his own new young children and yet focused on such a haunting theme in composition. Mahler's wife was even appalled, "What I cannot understand is bewailing the deaths of children who were in the best of health and spirits...hardly one hour after having kissed and hugged them." (Gartenberg)

It was Ironic then when in 1907, his beloved daughter Maria Anna contracted diphtheria and at the young age of 4, died. 1907 was also the year Mahler himself was diagnosed with infective endocarditis. Grief stricken and with a new life limiting illness he began work on symphony No. 9.

We are not surprised then to hear these themes in Mahler's 9th symphony. Listen to the beginning of this 1st movement. It begins subtlety, even hesitantly. Can you envision Mahler at a picnic with his daughters, the merriment of life abounds. Then the intrusion begins, an ominous discord like a storm on the horizon. The climax is ushered in with trombones piercing the calm, as death appears in the midst of joyous life. The strings then follow as a voice crying in sorrow.

It is in the 4th movement that Mahler finds his conclusion. He uses a theme from his earlier Kindertotenlieder cycles in this movement. Although when he originally wrote it he had to imagine the loss, it was now more poignantly real. The poem of that 4th cycle speaks to the recognition of the tricks the mind can play when we've lost someone dear. Yet in the lines that follow you'll note the resolution, in the term "those heights" which Mahler changed to a German word meaning "heaven". From cycle #4. Oft denk' ich, sie sind nur aus gegangen:

"Often I think they've gone outside! / Soon they will get back home again! / The day is lovely! Don't be anxious, / They're only taking a long walk / .... They've only gone out before us, / And will not long to come home again. / We'll catch up with them on yonder heights / In the sunshine! / The day is fine on yonder heights!"

As you listen to this part of the 4th movement, hear the words of the poem. The sadness behind the strings slowly resolving into resolution. Mahler himself perhaps finding his own peace, not only in the loss of his little girl, but in his own mortality. Do you hear the theme saying, "It'll be okay", the grief is still present, but "the day is fine yonder heights"


Sources: Gartenberg, Egon. "Mahler:The Man and his Music" (New Tork: Schirmer, 1978), 288.
Rushing, Randal "Gustav Mahler's Kindertotenlieder: Subject and textual choices and alterations of the friedrich ruchert poems, a lecture recital, together with three recitals of selected works of F. Schubert, J. Offenback, G. Finzi and F. Mendelssohn" Here
Works: Mahler, Gustav "Symphony No. 9"

I wanted to write a follow-up on a movie I had posted on previously, "The Sea Inside". As I was writing about "The Sea Inside", Amy (who is much more musically inclined than I) pointed out to me the significance of the song playing during the dream sequence. The song (or aria, to be more precise) is entitled Nessun Dorma or None Shall Sleep. It's from the final act of Giacomo Puccini's opera Turandot.

Here's the plot in a nutshell. Turandot is a princess in ancient China who challenges her suitors with three riddles. If they can answer, they win her hand. If not, they are beheaded. The Prince of Tartary falls for Turandot and correctly answers all three of the riddles. Turandot is very upset that he has succeeded, so the Prince gives her an out. If she can guess his name by morning, he will be put to death. If she can't guess, she will have to marry him. The Princess declares, "This night, none shall sleep in Peking! The penalty for all will be death if the Prince's name is not discovered by morning." The song is Nessun Dorma is sung by the Prince awaiting the morning.




Below is Luciano Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma. In 1990, Pavarotti's version of this song actually hit #2 on the UK Singles Chart, which is said to be the highest ever achieved by a classical recording. (Songs that made it up to #1 on UK charts that year included Ice Ice Baby, Turtle Power, and Hangin' Tough. Hard competition for Nessun Dorma.)





Puccini died from complications of throat cancer prior to finishing the opera and it had to be finished to by one of his contemporaries, Franco Alfano. Although Alfano did have some of Puccini's sketches to work from, no one knows exactly how Puccini would have ended the opera. There have been a couple different reworkings of the ending since that time.

I recently heard (thank you NPR) that the ending was going to be rewritten again. Apparently, the opera Turandot was never played in China as they believed the blood thirsty Chinese princess cast a bad light on the country. To celebrate the opening of the National Center for Performing Arts in Beijing, a Chinese composer, Hao Weiya, was hired to rewrite the end of Turandot. It seems to have been met with some mixed reviews.

Here is the common translation of Nessun Dorma.

No one sleeps, no one sleeps
Even you, o Princess,
In your cold room,
Watch the stars,
That tremble with love
And with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me;
My name no one shall know, no, no,
On your mouth I will speak it
When the light shines,
And my kiss will dissolve the silence
That makes you mine.
No one will know his name
And we must, alas, die.
Vanish, o night!
Set, stars!
At daybreak, I shall conquer!

As the Prince stays awake all night, he awaits a morning that might bring his own death or the fulfilment of his dream (desire) to be with the Princess Turandot. Ramon Sampedro felt that he was being denied "sleep", but in his case, it was the sleep itself he desired. What an appropriate choice of music!

In 1880, Marie Berna had only been married a short time when her husband, Dr. George Berna died. To commemorate his life she visited the then unknown artist, Arnold Bocklin at his studio in Florence to commission a painting. He at first suggested he’d paint something to cheer her up, a happy scene. She preferred something more serene, as a theme of her bereavement.

Arnold Bocklin referred to his work as A Still Place, A Silent Island and Island of the Graves. He told Madame Berna, "Its influence is so quiet that one is startled if there is a knock at the door." Later an art dealer by the name of Fritz Gurlitt provided the title, which it is now known by: Isle of the Dead.

We see a boatman rowing into the darkness. At the center a figure in white stands over a coffin draped in white. The stillness of the work has touched many over the years. In fact Adolf Hitler purchased one of Bocklin's five versions. It was hanging on the wall of his study in the bunker he committed suicide in. Vladimir Lenin and Sigmund Freud had reproductions on their walls as well.