Symphony No. 9 In E Minor by Ralph Vaughan Williams; Sir Adrian Boult; The London Philharmonic Orchestra Everest (SDBR-3006) Publication date 1958

 Giuseppe Verdi was 79 when he finished his final opera —

the glorious comedie humaine — Falstaff, and he was 85

at the time his Four Sacred Pieces came to publication.

In our own day we have seen England’s great symphonist,

Ralph Vaughan Williams (b. 1872—d. 1958) complete

between his 79th and 85th years such varied scores as the

Eighth and Ninth Symphony, a Romance for Harmonica

and Orchestra, a Tuba Concerto and choral pieces.

Fascinating is the venerable British master’s preoccu-

pation with new instrumental sonorities. The Ninth Sym-

phony, recorded here for the first time, finds the use of the

neglected flugelhorn and of saxophones as a group (the

composer had heretofore used the saxophone as a solo

instrument in the “masque for dancing” Job and in the

Sixth Symphony).

Like the Eighth Symphony, the Ninth represents a

synthesis of musical and expressive content dwelt on in

previous works — afterthoughts of the Sixth and Antar-

tica seem to be at work here, and the flugelhorn solo in

the slow movement recalls the sound of the natural

trumpet in the Pastoral Symphony. The scherzo of the

Ninth has in it, too, something of the savagery of the

celebrated F Minor.

So far as the genesis and essential nature of the Ninth

Symphony is concerned, it would be impossible to surpass

the delightful A-to-Z analysis (literally!) provided by

the composer. He cites in the course of his discussion 26

alphabetically designated excerpts, which space un-

fortunately does not permit us to reproduce here. By kind

permission of the Oxford University Press, publisher of

most of Vaughan Williams’ output, we give here a slightly

adapted version of what the composer has to say about

his Symphony No. 9 in E Minor (*):

This symphony was begun, except for a few vague

sketches, early in 1956, and was finished, so far as a com-

position ever is finished, in November 1957. It was written

chiefly in London, but partly in Majorca and partly at

Ashmansworth the home of Gerald and Joyce Finzi. It is

dedicated to the Royal Philharmonic Society, and was

first played at a concert on 2 April 1958 by the Royal Phil-

harmonic Orchestra conducted by Sir Malcom Sargent.

The usual symphony orchestra is used, with the addi-

tion of three saxophones and flugelhorn. This beautiful

and neglected instrument is not usually allowed in the

select circles of the orchestra and has been banished to

the brass band, where it is allowed to indulge in the bad

habit of vibrato to its heart’s content. While in the orches-

tra it will be obliged to sit up and play straight. The

saxophones, also, are not expected, except possibly in one

place in the scherzo, to behave like demented cats, but

are allowed to be their own romantic selves. Otherwise

the orchestration is normal, and is, the composer hopes,

sound in wind and strings.

There are four movements, as is usual in a symphony.

The first movement, Allegro moderato, is not in strict

sonata form but obeys the general principles of statement,

contrast and repetition, the basis of all musical form.

The opening subject ...is played by the trombones and

“Omissions (very slight) are indicated by (...) and insertions are

Peace }. Dr. Vaughan Williams’ notes ©1958 Oxford University

ress.

tuba, and then repeated a fifth higher by the other brass,

surrounded by an E pedal in four octaves. This theme

occurred to the composer after playing some of the organ

part of the opening of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion. Those

who are curious about these matters can doubtless trace

the connection. This section finished with a cadential

passage founded on the Neapolitan sixth played by the

saxophones against a minor tonic chord on the strings.

The opening is repeated with a counter-theme. ...

Then follows what is apparently a second subject played

on three clarinets. Surely there is something wrong here?

The second subject should be in G major? But all will

be explained before long. This theme... gradually un-

folds itself with passing references to the opening theme

till G major is reached. The correct key for the second

subject at last: but, oh dear, it is not a new subject at all

but a version [of the three-clarinet theme] developed

and extended. Never mind, Haydn often does much the

same, and what is good enough for the master is good

enough for the man. We now successfully return to the

home key, E, but major this time, not minor. But alas,

there is no sign of the first subject, instead another ver-

sion of the [three-clarinet theme] develops into a rhap-

sodical passage on the solo violin accompanied by harp

and pizzicato strings. Surely there is something wrong

again, here? Well it's Joseph Haydn to the rescue once

more: the fact is the composer had forgotten all about the

first subject, so he adds it now, very softly, hoping it

doesn't intrude. This is the end of the movement, except

for the saxophone cadence a la Napolitaine.

The second movement, Andante Sostenuto, seems to

have no logical connection between its various themes.

This has led some people to think it must have a pro-

gramme since apparently programme music need not be

logical. It is quite true that this movement started off

with a programme, but it got lost on the journey — so

now, oh no, we never mention it — and the music must be

left to speak for itself — whatever that may mean.

... The opening theme...ts played on the flugelhorn

(senza vibrato!) There is a footnote in the score that it

must never be played on the cornet, and if the flugelhorn

unfortunately is not available, the passage must be played

on the French horn. This theme is borrowed from an

early work of the composer’s luckily long since scrapped,

but changed so that its own father would hardly recog-

nize it.

The episode which follows is a strong contrast: a bar-

baric march theme . . . against which theme is a counter-

theme.

A sudden modulation to B flat .minor brings. back a

version of [the opening theme], followed by a romantic

episode in triple time, played chiefly by the strings...

Followed by another theme [and yet another].

Then a menacing stroke on the gong brings back a

reminiscence of the opening theme. Why is a gong in the

orchestra always supposed to be menacing? To the un-

musical hearer a note on the gong means dinner, this

perhaps often is menacing enough, as a well-known

parody of a hymn reminds us. Anyhow, the gong stroke

gives a sinister aspect to this theme. Then a quick cres-

cendo leads to a restatement of the [barbaric march

theme] played by the full force of the orchestra, which

dies down to softness, and the flugelhorn and its tune

are once more heard, this time with a counter subject

below it on the clarinet.

The third movement, Allegro Pesante, is a scherzo.

After a few preliminary side-drum taps the opening

theme is announced on three saxophones. ...A repeti-

tion of this in a higher octave leads to a new theme....

[and to yet another}. Indeed, this is a movement of juxta-

position not of development. A cadenza-like passage on

the three saxophones leads to the most important of the

subsidiary themes. ... The composer to his delight, dis-

covered that by a little jugglery this tune could be made

to go in canon: he could not resist the temptation. For

some time the music has been loud: it now dieg down to

introduce the recapitulation, which is not exact, but takes

the form of a fugato. . . . The various subsidiary themes

are introduced in turn as counterpoints to the fugue sub-

ject. All well mannered orchestral fugues must be inter-

rupted by a choral; this duly happens ... (This is where

the demented cats come in). The well-mannered choral,

after its first statement, should of course be combined

with the fugue subject. The composer tried this, but found

the result so dull that he serqpped it and substituted a

simple repetition of the choral with rather fuller instru-

mentation. Then, as a climax, comes a restatement of the

opening theme...at half the speed, for full orchestra.

... This leads to another saxophone cadenza, and lastly

the first saxophone plays its little tune very softly accom-

panied by the side drum. When the tune is finished the

side drum goes on by itself and quietly taps itself to

death.

Only a very short pause separates the scherzo from the

last movement, Andante Tranquillo. This final movement

is really two movements, played without break, and con-

nected by three short phrases which recur throughout.

... We start off with a long cantilena played by the

violins. ...It is answered by the violas and a florid

counterpoint on the clarinet adds its quota. This leads to

the first if the before-mentioned connecting phrases. ...

This in its turn leads to another new tune. ...It is played

on the horn, to an accompaniment of Verdi-like arpeggios

on the woodwind. This is repeated and extended and leads

to a loud repetition of [connecting phrase I], which in

its turn leads to the two other connecting links... both

soft. Then ‘all that again’ as Purcell would say, but dif-

ferently coloured. This leads to a loud statement of

[connecting phrase III},. which however soon softens

down and is followed by an episode . .. which divides the

two sections of the movement.

The second half starts with this tune played on the

violas under a high pedal G. . . . This tune develops itself,

at first it is soft, but gradually wakes up and becomes loud

and contrapuntal. The three connecting themes are also

heard, then [the second-half tune] is blared out by the

full orchestra in two-part harmony, we hear a suggestion

of [connecting phrase II], and the movement ends with

the saxophones once more in their Neapolitan vein, but

this time with the final chord of E major.

— DAVID HALL