#polymorphia

One of the great 20th Century composers, and also a fine conductor, Penderecki was a defining force in the realm of music during my life. He first crafted revolutionary, expressionistic music that offered new ways for traditional orchestral instruments to be played. After much success in this style, he returned to a personal exploration of past European classical traditions, inspired by Bruckner, Mahler and Shostakovich to write large scale tonal symphonies which are splendid achievements in that form of expression.

His large body of work includes eight completed symphonies, four operas—one based on Huxley’s The Devils of Loudon and another on Milton’s Paradise Lost, many choral and vocal works, concerti, and chamber music. I first heard of him via his “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima”—written in 1960 for 52 stringed instruments. It is a “must listen” piece for anyone who is interested in music. This video link includes the score so you can follow the unusual notations which the players were challenged to realize. It is a harrowing listen and indeed it created a style since employed by film composers who want to accompany scenes with music of extreme anguish. Many of his works are reactions and memorials to tragic world events. Directors have used pre-existing compositions by Penderecki in their films including Friedkin (THE EXORCIST), Kubrick (THE SHINING), Scorsese (SHUTTER ISLAND), and Lynch (INLAND EMPIRE), thus many film aficionados have come to hear his music. He was well recognized and won numerous awards, and was also known as an educator for promising young musicians. One of his other projects was a nearly 75 acre arboretum in which he had 1,700 species of trees planted over the course of about five decades. He saw this as a sort of ongoing “unfinished symphony.” 

Penderecki had made an immense mark with his cutting-edge works, but he began to move away from this earlier atonal style and cemented that with the composition of his Symphony No. 2, sometimes called his “Christmas Symphony,” since a fragment of the carol “Silent Night” is used in the work. I was fortunate enough to attend the rehearsals as well as the premiere performance with Zubin Mehta conducting the New York Philharmonic on May 1, 1980. During the rehearsals, which included a full run through, I sat near some members of the press and overheard their negative reactions to this piece. They seemed to feel it was a betrayal of Penderecki’s avant garde preeminence. I quite loved it—still do, and was subsequently fortunate enough to attend performances in Carnegie Hall and then-named Avery Fisher Hall of his symphonies No. 3 (1988-95, which cleverly employs rototoms), No. 4 “Adagio” (1989), and No. 5 “Korean” (1991-92, which includes bell gongs and has a quirky lengthy fugue theme). Penderecki conceived of his Symphony No. 6 as a sort of “song symphony” much as Mahler had done with his Das Lied von der Erde—even to using the same source of Bethge’s German translations of Chinese poetry as texts, but he put it aside to do his massive choral Symphony No. 7 “The Seven Gates of Jerusalem” (1996) and then his Symphony No. 8, “Songs of Transience” (2005), which featured choir, vocal soloists and even calls for 50 ocarinas to be played by the chorus members. The Symphony No. 6 was finally completed and debuted in 2017.

When asked about his projected Symphony No. 9 back in 2018, the composer mused:

“Good question. Of course, I am going to write it. I have sketches. But I am not in a hurry. I want this piece to be an important piece. The Ninth Symphony is supposed to be something special. Forty minutes (in duration), something like that. I’m writing one big movement. I’m not sure if it will be with choir or not. I have sketches. I cannot say anything more. Absolutely different sketches, which I can put together, or maybe start from the beginning.”

I hope that whatever sketches he might have produced will be saved and eventually released for study, and possible performance—if they reached that level of completion.

Back in 1984 I attended a series of concerts under the auspices of the New York Philharmonic titled “Horizons ’84.” During the evening concert on June 1, amongst the performers was Diamanda Galás, doing a multi-movement solo piece of her own. She strode onto the stage, wearing an impressive dark gown, and had three microphones on stands before her into which she projected her wide-ranged ululations. These were subjected to reverb and repetition, weaving a bizarre and elaborate sonic tapestry. For me, I felt it had become quite repetitive and my interest evaporated fairly swiftly, and I noted in the program that there were several lengthy movements to come. During her pause between movements, I arose and moved from my seat rightwards toward the aisle to make my exit. When I got to the aisle, to my surprise, I was face to face with Penderecki. He was accompanied by a striking blonde woman, both of them coming from the same row, but the opposite side of the aisle. They clearly had similarly run out of patience with Ms. Galás’ warblings. We looked each other in the eye, smiled, shrugged and shook our heads. I gestured with my arm that he and his companion should precede me up the aisle to exit at the rear of the hall. And so we did.

My admiration goes to this splendid composer who has gifted us with hours of fascinating and moving music. I’m sure he has touched many who enjoy the genres he assayed, and that he’ll long be remembered for his entire range of expressive works, from his youthful radicalism to his mature reflective explorations of the past. Bravo, Maestro Penderecki, for your uncompromising pursuit of your aesthetics and a life very well lived. 

I know the commander is most likely not the type to sit alone in the rain, but whatever.