Aulis Sallinen - Symphony No. 1, Op. 24 (1971)

Aulis Heikki Sallinen (born 9 April 1935) is a Finnish contemporary classical music composer. Sallinen studied at the Sibelius Academy, where his teachers included Joonas Kokkonen. He has had works commissioned by the Kronos Quartet, and has also written seven operas, eight symphonies, concertos for violin, cello, flute, horn, and English horn, as well as several chamber works. He won the Nordic Council Music Prize in 1978 for his opera Ratsumies (The Horseman). Please support my channel: Symphony No. 1, Op. 24 (1971) Staatsphilharmonie Rheinland-Pfalz conducted by Ari Rasilainen Aulis Sallinen began writing his first Symphony in 1970 when the City of Helsinki announced a composers’ competition to mark the inauguration of Finlandia Hall. Completing the symphony in 1971, Sallinen was awarded First Prize in the contest; the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra and its music director, Jorma Panula, premiered the work at Finlandia Hall during the 2 December inaugural festivities. Details from Fugue for Thought: The work begins poignantly with a viola solo, joined shortly after by violin. Flute, piccolo and glockenspiel afford a magical, haunting glimmer to the melancholy tones of the strings, and this sets the mood of the entire piece, heartfelt, but somewhat bleak. Things get underway when cellos and double basses pick up the figure that viola started. By the time the flute echoes the same figures, I find myself entirely entranced in this world, one that’s expressive and lyrical, but also dark and somewhat hard-edged, morose. More than Sibelius or Shostakovich, Allan Pettersson comes to mind in the way the work unravels from these single few gestures, barren, exposed, but so passionate and full of depth. In contrast with this first section, but still related to it, is one in which long pauses hold the tension in the air, punctuating a conversation between flute and bassoon. The string voices that interrupt here and there remind me of some of the death shrieks in Mahler’s music, like the second symphony (the only one that is actually referred to that way), or third or tenth. This section seems to act like a scherzo, being notated in 9/4, the first time I’ve ever seen that time signature. In little fragments and bits, I hear what seem like references to the Dies Irae, and what was originally an airy, arctic sounding passage has filled out to one of greater body and complexity, generating immense amounts of tension, afforded partly by woodblock, snare and bass drum pounding out an almost unnerving heartbeat. As if coming off the near-unbearably tense energy of this central scherzo-like passage, glockenspiel, bells and vibraphone fall into a triplet-figured rhythm, something that has the feeling that it’s going to be what drags us, haunts us through to the end of the work. Surprisingly, though, and immensely satisfying, is that the figure from the very opening, what the flutes echoed out across the barren landscape at the very opening, returns in violins as cellos echo a similar, nearly triplet-feeling rhythm. It seems to develop into a march, something with the haunting, almost ostinato-like persistence of Shostakovich, a plodding, painful march, nothing triumphant. The timpani thunders out the first beat of every 3/4 bar, and snare answers on the subsequent two. Ultimately, the opening theme does not return for a reprise, but the march-like passage cools off, as if dimming away, disappearing to leave wailing horns, fluttering flutes, and serene, almost sacred, organ-like strings for a still finish to this absolutely magical, epic-sounding but very compact 14-minute symphony. Of all the works we’ve discussed in this series, this is one that I find (along with Kokkonen and Aho) to be one of the most strikingly powerful. It has a sharpness to it, a focus and clarity in its expression that gets right to the heart of the listener and the subject matter. It’s absolutely breathtaking, and so easy to hear and give a few listens to with how brief this intense work is. This really is the joy of spending a little time to dig through and find something truly special to enjoy, isn’t it? We’re nearing the end of our Finnish series, but there’s still a little bit left. This is, however, the last symphonic work we’ll discuss in 2017, and I’d say it’s a fantastic one to be the last. We’ve got two more works left this year, very interesting chamber pieces, so do stay tuned for those. Thank you so much for reading. Full article: