Flagello, revisited
Awhile ago, I made a offhand comment about the music of Nicolas Flagello, saying that what I'd heard had been "pug ugly." John McLaughlin Williams (conductor of the recording under consideration) posted a comment. John is too much the gentleman to say, "Quick, you're full of crap", but in fact I was full of crap, and he challenged me to listen again. That's understandable; John has done as much for Flagello's music as anyone since Paul Kapp (which is not to slight David Amos or others, but an objective evaluation), so such a dismissal could be taken personally as "Why are you wasting time with this guy?" (No, I don't believe John took it that way.)
"Pug ugly" was an exaggeration in any case. I mean, you're pug ugly when your mother has to tie a pork chop around your neck before the dog will play with you. There are lots of composers uglier than Flagello, and most of them get more play, and even get taught as Fundamental Western Art Music Canon. And there's a lot of Flagello that can't be considered ugly at all. (If you think that Strauss and Puccini are ugly, well, there's no hope for you.)
So I was left wondering where it was that I'd copped my 'tude from. I traced back my Naxos Music Library diving and considered my thought patterns. And I realized that my "ugly Flagello" was the Symphony No. 1...the very piece John recommended I listen to. I did that, and have concluded that Flagello 1 is the American symphony of the 1960s...at least I haven't heard another that does what a symphony needs to do as well as that. The jury is still out, as there's Diamond and Harris from that decade that never made it to the studio. But the point is, it's a damnfine work. Is it ugly? Yes, parts of it are. Is it uglier than it needs to be, for what it has to say? No.
And "what it has to say", I think, is what turned me off. It's a pretty dour work, traversing the emotional landscape from warm resignation to cold rage. Even the scherzo is no joke, though it has a wonderful ending introduced by hammering timpani and violins that sounds like Bruckner from Hell. Then there's the end of the Ciaccona, where we get the theme harmonized in triads, and what sounds like a final cadence onto a major chord. For a moment you think, "Oh no! Are we going to have a deus-ex-machina triumphal ending after all that?" Flagello isn't stupid; he twists the triad into dissonance, barks out some fierce chords, and it's over.
I'm coming to grips with more of Flagello's work. A lot of it tends toward dark hues. He's a masterful orchestrator, but not a colorful one; shades of grey fit his material, just as Ravel orchestrating Elgar would not work.He can be colorful; it just rarely suits his puposes. The earlier works are lighter; the later pieces tend to be darker, noiser, more negative. I don't know how much of that was autobiography-driven, and how much was a conscious approach to the then-current style. I'll be continuing to listen and will maybe report more here some other time.
But the other thing I need to come to grips with is how my own tastes change and where my music -- and Flagello's -- fits into that. I used to be quite fond of the Confessional Style, and to some extent unconsciously I bought into the received Great Composer Myth. That myth might be condensed as follows: Beethoven was the first real composer, the first to really use music as a vehicle of self-expression, who was met with incomprehension of his greatness. Through the 19th century, composers became better at self-expression. After Mahler, there was nothing left to do but break every stylistic barrier to self expression. And since the non-confessional composers were writing happy music (How do we know that Mendelssohn wasn't confessional? He did have it pretty good after all.), then Real Artist Composers had to write stormy gloomy music, a trait intensified when their work encountered incomprehension.
But this is a misreading of Beethoven and romanticism generally. There are reasons Ludwig is considered part of the Classical Era. Sure, there are storms (as there were in early Haydn), But the Classical view is that the world is ordered by God, and that Music should reflect that order, and perhaps even the Christian narrative (man screws up, suffers, God comes to suffer with us, fixes the screwup, we live together forever in glory). As science found in the 19th century that the natural order was more complex and wonderful than anyone thought, so the means of order became more sophisticated. But still, in the 19th c., music was about the world...even world-encompassing, as Mahler would famously say. Tchaikovsky and Mahler are sometimes considered as confessional composers. But even in the Pathetique, only the outer movements are negative, and most of Mahler is not. In Mahler's case, we have a very sophisticated and vivid storyteller describing the world. Because he's so individual, in the process we learn quite a bit about Mahler too, but the story itself is about the world, not Mahler. There's a difference between that skill being turned toward describing one's trip to Bali, and using the skill to describe one's colostomy.
What changed in the 20th century? Marxism, psychoanalysis, atheism, horrible wars, and general narcissism. Composers, particularly composers connected to the Grand German Symphonic Tradition, found that their chief theme was themselves. This works to the extent that one is Everyman and listeners can see themselves through you. It doesn't work if you're messed up. The Confessional Style, rather than being an artifact of Romanticism, is Expressionism waged through 19th-century means. The Russians got into the game early with proto-confessionals like Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff. Shostakovich was the biggest representative of this trend, particularly in the 4th and 8th symphonies and the later quartets. Would he have gone further with that without political interference, or did the political interference make the affable, soccer-loving artist into a gloom purveyor? His successors in that department are most notably Schnittke and Ustvolskaya.
In Sweden, we had Pettersson, personally functional but emotionally and physically scarred. As horrifying as life in a Pettersson symphony is, there's always light seen at the end of the tunnel. One never gets to the light, but you glimpse it at least, which makes the darkness bearable.
In Britain, we find Malcolm Arnold, whose symphonies play Mr. Hyde to the Dr. Jekyll of the various British Dances and other lighter music. They're hard going, not for linguistic but for spiritual reasons. To be blunt, they are audibly the work of a sick puppy. Like Flagello, he ended his career in dementia.
So, what's this all mean for Flagello-reception, and for composers writing now, and for me? Well, you have to write the music that you hear inside. One can tune in to various stations, to a certain extent; you don't have to write everything you hear any more than you have to speak everything you think. Part of what separates the great from the couldabeens is basic issues of personality, who you are. Beethoven was, overall, a heroic figure, as well as being an asshole in his personal life. There was a heroism in Flagello too, the Harvey Pekar-esque heroism of the guy who gets up in the morning to support his family. Yet one also gets the impression of somebody too conscious that he deserved better. He did deserve better, but that and $1.50 is good for a cup of coffee. There are no entitlements in the universe. Does that bitterness invalidate his music somehow? I don't think so. There's room for homeopathic and allopathic music in treating melancholy. And I've loved dark stuff --just not so much now.
Then there's the music of this Quick guy, which borders on the bipolar. I do like to work the extremes of emotion (even if means writing "pug ugly"). But at least I try to have both sides. Is it "all about me"? Sure, I'll cop to it; I'm a child of the '60s. But I also like to think there's something in each of my pieces that somebody will identify with and carry home, and experience supports that idea. And somebody else may have a Flagello-sized hole that needs filling. All hail diversity!
Comments
Posted by: Walter Simmons
Posted on: February 19, 2008 10:21 AM
I have known and loved the music of Nicolas Flagello for more than 40 years now. No other music has ever resonated with me on such a profound level. I have therefore been baffled all these years as to why his music has received so little attention. On the assumption that the main reason is that most music lovers simply don't know about it, I have written about it extensively; one chapter of my book Voices in the Wilderness (Scarecrow Press, 2004) is devoted to Flagello and his music. (Some of the personal information about him that you have mentioned suggests that you may have read something I've written.) I have also produced a number of recordings, so that more of his music might be available to potentially interested listeners. The response to these recordings has indeed been gratifying, as it appears that many others have shared my reactions, which I had begun to suspect as my own idiosyncrasy.
When I read your "pug ugly" comment, I was tempted to respond, but then I said to myself, "He's entitled to his reaction; what's the point of arguing?" But I was pleased to see John's response. (John McLaughlin Williams is an extraordinarily gifted conductor, and his recordings of Flagello's music have made a tremendous contribution to its increased availability, while presenting it in the most advantageous light.)
Your most recent comments (Flagello, revisited), however, show some real thought and warrant some response. First of all, I am very glad that further listening enabled you to find more value in Flagello's Symphony No. 1. Ever since the world premiere some 35 years ago, which I was fortunate enough to attend, I have felt that it is one of the great American symphonies, and validates Flagello's stature as one of our foremost composers. However, most of your thoughtful commentary involves the overall expressive content of his music, and no one can legitimately dispute your claim that it is primarily dark--even anguished--and reflective of a rather pessimistic world-view. Some of the points you raise--Why does so much music that is considered "great" so often express negative emotions?--have broad, far-reaching implications. And the examples you raise--especially Tchaikovsky, Mahler, and Pettersson--are most apt.
First of all, I think that your main explanation, in which you invoke the romantic paradigm of the tortured hero raising his fist in defiance of Fate, accounts for much of the appeal of such music. But one might also invoke the cathartic impact of tragedy, as elaborated by Aristotle, which certainly long predates the 19th-century romantic paradigm. And then there is the matter of how effectively these feelings are expressed in music. Music that capitalizes on the notion of the tragic hero is not all equal; such factors as the quality of the musical material, and the craftsmanship with which it is developed play important roles in the quality and appeal of the final product.
Nevertheless, not everyone responds to this aesthetic paradigm. Some respond to others. But there is no question but that--its benign inner movements notwithstanding--Tchaikovsky's Pathetique is a work of great despair, yet holds great appeal for thousands of listeners, as does much other equally pessimistic music by Tchaikovsky--and by Mahler, and by Rachmaninoff and many others. But what characterizes this music, and the music of Flagello--but NOT the music of Pettersson, I might add--is the sense that emerges of the humanity of the voice crying out. To me, at any rate, the music of Pettersson and that of many other "modern pessimists" depicts a dark and violent emotional landscape, but without capturing the sense of vulnerability of the individual bearing witness. There is also the issue of spiritual redemption. Yes, in Flagello's Symphony No. 1 and some other pieces, there seems to be no remedy to the sense of despair. But in MUCH of his music the despair is redeemed by a sense of faith in some sort of spiritual deliverance.
So these are some of my reflections on the points you raised in contemplating your reactions to Flagello's music. I hope that you will continue listening. I think that there is more to it than simply self-pity. And now, so much of his music is readily available on recording that the interested individual can follow up and decide for him/herself. Such listeners may also visit www.Flagello.com.
Posted by: Jeffrey Quick
Posted on: February 19, 2008 12:07 PM
Hi Walter; thanks for playing. I'm reading your book now (when's the next one coming out?). We've had it here at Kulas Music Library since it came out, and I read the Flagello chapter earlier (so many books, so little time...).
Again, I regret the "pug-ugly" remark; it does neither my reputation nor Flagello's any good to "show my ass" by making snap judgments based on where my head was at one morning. I'm not sure he'll become a personal favorite, for reasons I've expounded above. But the more I listen, the more I hear that there's little if anything wrong with his music as music. My respect grows with each piece, and it's a warmer respect than, say, the way I "respect" Elliott Carter (but don't often listen to him).
My problem with the idea of catharsis is that it doesn't always work. Very often, rather than purging the emotions, art becomes a way to carry them around like old friends. And my vulgar Germanic sense of humor leads me to note that "catharsis", pre-Aristotle, mainly referred to menstruation, so perhaps we must ask if a composer is being psychotherapeutic or is just "on the rag". Harry Partch claimed, in his notes for Delusion of the Fury, that tragedies were always followed by comedies, but a little casual research didn't find any support for that notion. I'm personally finding an increasing need for a happy ending; even if the actual happy ending doesn't show up until after the piece is done, I'd like to think it's out there somewhere. I don't know why I should have that subjective requirement; it may have to do with the current state of the world and the unlikelihood of a happy ending before a lot more tragedy. And, as you point out, there are indeed Flagello works with happy endings: The Passion of Martin Luther King and Theme, Variations and Fugue would be two examples.The most remarkable thing about this conversation is that we can be discussing a composer of agreed-upon emotional and technical means, and disagree about the social or personal value of the emotions expressed. This is SO not-'70s. It shows, I think, a change in the notion of what composition is about (at least in this little subculture).
I just got Albany TROY 143 through OhioLink, so there will be more discoveries.