About Today’s Program, by Jacob Jahiel
“As we begin the final stages of this fight to the death between the free world and the slave world, it is worthwhile to refresh our minds about the march of freedom for the common man.”
It was these words, uttered by Vice President Henry A. Wallace upon the United States’ entry into the Second World War, that partly inspired Aaron Copland’s own wartime contribution, Fanfare for the Common Man. Of the 18 fanfares commissioned by conductor Eugene Goossens to bolster morale for wartime audiences, only Copland’s is still widely performed.
One of many 20th century composers who sought to make their music a force of good in society, Copland sought distinctly “American” musical qualities drawn from our own rich history of folk music. The result, as you will hear, is a sound that mirrors the vastness and openness associated with the American landscape, combining the compositional virtuosity and skill of a classically trained composer with the rich well of American vernacular music. As BSO conductor Alejandro Gómez Guillén put to me so eloquently, “Fanfare for the Common (Hu)Man; not common as in ordinary, but common as in that thread which makes us all one.”
In the same year as the Fanfare’s premiere, Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring, originally a ballet, was commissioned by choreographer and pioneer of modern dance Martha Graham after she had stumbled across a passage in the poem “The Dance” by Hart Crane:
O Appalachian Spring! I gained the ledge; Steep, inaccessible smile that eastward bends And northward reaches in that violet wedge Of Adirondacks!
The original program notes at the October 30, 1944 premiere in the Library of Congress further illuminate the narrative Graham and Copland convey, one that brings to mind Manifest Destiny and the vast opportunity that existed, and still exists, for those who seek to settle here:
Spring was celebrated by a man and woman building a house with joy and love and prayer; by a revivalist and his followers in their shouts of exaltation; by a pioneering woman with her dreams of the Promised Land.
Much like Fanfare for the Common Man, Appalachian Spring elicits images of the American landscape, folk dances, and rollicking cowboys. The orchestral rendition performed today will be split into 8 sections, each conveying a different mood and part of the story. Listen carefully and you might hear a familiar tune or two.
Although written half a century earlier, Antonin Dvořák’s Symphony No 9 in E minor “From the New World” shows a similar convergence of folk music and classical composition. In September 1892, far from his native Bohemia, Dvořák stepped off the SS Saale in Hoboken, New Jersey. Unlike Copland, he spent most of his life far away from America. Yet, in many ways his story as an immigrant, like millions before and after him, epitomizes another aspect of American identity. And, like many immigrants, he brought much of his native Bohemia with him, particularly the folk music which he had been immersed in as a young person and which also permeates much of his Ninth Symphony. American folk music was therefore a natural fascination for him and, having read and reread The Song of Hiawatha as a young man, he was particularly interested in Native American music. Dvořák wrote to a friend, “[Symphony No 9] pleases me very much and will differ very substantially from my early compositions. The influence of America can be readily felt by anyone with a nose.”
The symphony emerges slowly with a mercurial pianissimo originating in the low strings, briefly punctuated by a horn, transferring the opening motif to the winds and exploding into the Allegro molto. Melodies give way to one each other, each dramatically different, some melancholy, some dance-like, but always constantly relinquishing themselves to the almost violent, brooding angst from which the music cannot seemingly escape.
The tempo of the second movement, it turns out, gave Dvořák some pause. In his sketches, he had wavered between the moderately paced andante marking and the slightly slower larghetto. When he heard it being rehearsed for the first time at a far slower tempo than he had ever even considered, he decided finally to mark it Largo. Michael Steinberg notes, “This is also landscape music, and the American landscape — imagined by Dvořák, who at this point had seen only New York City — is full of bird song.”
The third movement, Scherzo (Molto vivace), is described by Dvořák as being inspired by the dance of Pau-Puk Keewis in Longfellow’s Hiawatha. Beginning with a brief quotation from Beethoven’s scherzo in his own Symphony No. 9, the dance cannot help but to give way to yet another melody that might as easily have been in Appalachian Spring. In the trio another dance emerges, but perhaps at times this belongs more to the Old World.
The last movement Allegro con fuoco is an amalgamation of tuneful melodies and previous material. Yet again, the line between the old and new world often seems blurred. Brashness flirts with exuberance, continually trading with long lyrical sections and often returning to the intemperate gloom of the first movement. For a moment, the music drops back down almost to silence, quietly returning to the first theme of the movement, and reemerging into a resolute ending.