Peter Sculthorpe’s “Mangrove”

Hey guys,

There are very few pieces of music that actually take my breath away. This was one of them. This week, I’ll discuss the first half of this piece. Next week, I’ll move to the second half.

The opening of this piece is based on a fairly simple motivic construction. Sculthorpe takes the pitch Ab and creates small rhythmic motifs based around this pitch. At first, a very limited amount of pitches are used, but these gradually fan out. Different instruments in the brass section convey these motifs with different rhythms, creating contrast and colour. Register is also used to a very interesting effect: at one point, the highest note played thus far was by the 2nd Trombone! In short, the introduction was simultaneously simple, yet varied. It was a very effective technique from which we could all learn.

Next, the most striking feature of this piece was where Sculthorpe had the cellos play the same melody slightly out of time with each other. This had a striking colouristic effect. All the varied harmonics mingled together to create a beautiful reverb, and I think is a very iteresting and useful orchestrational technique.

Timothy

P. Sculthorpe – Maranoa Lullaby

“Sleep as falls the dark, in your bed of bark, none shall harm you, dear, Mother watches near.” – Translation of Maranoa lullaby

Maranoa lullaby by Peter Sculthorpe is based on an Aboriginal melody collected in Northern Australia with a piano accompaniment added by Arthur S.Loam in 1937.

Two versions of the lullaby exist; one for Mezzo soprano and string quartet and one for a recorder quartet. I’ve been listening to the recorder version by Genevieve Lacey.

Sculthorpe has a distinctive sound, his reverence for nature and indigenous peoples translates in his music to incorporating elements of traditional musics as well as a philosophy behind his composition related to the natural elements and identity.

On first listening Maranoa lullaby has a pleasant and simple sound to it, the interest lies in the layers of accompaniment and their transference from one section to another, a process Sculthorpe calls “Growth by accretion”.

The form of this piece is A A¹ B A A¹ B Coda. Throughout, the soprano takes the lead with the exception of a small part of the B section, the Alto plays a countermelody that is very prominent, the soprano takes over at the end of this section as leader. Both the rhythmic placement and discordance of the harmonies are very interesting in that the rhythm is slightly off beat, almost having a refined clumsy sound. Because the rhythms in the harmony are positioned unconventionally (especially in terms of western music) the discordance appears in places the ear does not expect, like at the end of a phrase. This seems like a much more prominent feature in the recorder version as the string quartet/Mezzo soprano version has these rhythmic and harmonic quirks featured amongst a group of instruments (strings) that, more so than any other group of instruments, are homogenous regardless of discordance in notation, as well as the fact that recorders are innately out of tune instruments as their pitch varies between registers on the same instrument.

The two versions of this piece are starkly contrasted from each other, the recorder version being sweet and having a refined clumsiness to it, while the vocal version is quite elegant and more serious. One of the best ways to sum Maranoa lullaby up is with a quote by Sculthorpe about the Australian landscape in relation to his work

“The middle distance often looks monotonous and featureless. The beauty of the bush lies more in the sense of space and distance, combined with strange and vivid detail”

- Jamie

Peter Sculthorpe- Kakadu

Nationalism is an aspect of a composers repertoire that can provide a lot of character and personality to their overall style. For example, Schubert took influence from traditional German poems to form the foundation of his German lieder. Peter Sculthorpe has been noted for combining elements of Australian indigenous music with large scale orchestral pieces. Other works of his such as Earth Cry utilize the Didgeridoo, which begins with a rhythmically involving solo section, followed by a full blown symphonic entrance. If it’s one complaint that I have against the works that I’ve listened to from Sculthorpe, is that I find this combination a little inconsistent, but that could be just me.

Kakadu is, much like Earth Cry, an orchestral piece. It’s inspiration comes from the Australia outback, an imagery that is evoked from the droning, bird-like chirping of the string section, or the thunderous momentum of the drums. These two representations can be considered recurring motifs throughout the piece, much like a symphonic poem. Instead of a melodic motif serving as representing a character or a certain imagery, a literal approach is taken through the use of extended-techniques to replicate the sounds of nature. An antiphonal approach is used in the ‘bird call’ section of the piece, with two separate string sections interacting between the left/right spectrum of the sound space. The result is extremely effective and an engrossing experience.

Shannon Barnes

Peter Sculthorpe – Kakadu

Sculthorpe wrote this piece as a reflection on his feelings towards the Kakadu National Park in Northern Australia, which is well known for its environmental extremes and its Aboriginal heritage.

The piece begins in an extremely energetic matter, with an ongoing eighth note pulse in the timpani and syncopated rhythms in the strings. This driving rhythm is punctuated by occasional striking chords from the oboes in their upper registers.

A contrasting section with less movement then develops, although a constant underlying pulse remains in the cello. The other strings continue with their syncopation, while horns take over the main melodic line. It is not so much rhythm but texture which builds this section as parts overlap and interweave into a dense, rich sound. A lovely dissonant chord signals entry to a new phase.

An expressive oboe solo takes over, while underneath other instruments play quite eerily. This section evoked images for me of the hollowness and emptiness of the Australian desert. Sculthorpe also makes clever use of the strings to create very authentic bird calls and insect sounds. The latter is developed further through the use of continuous quarter-tone vibrato and glissandos. This leads into a very mysterious, quite chilling part of the composition, with the harsh string sounds interspersed with brief tom-tom rhythms and fast, random motifs in the oboes.

The following section makes use of soft, steady rhythms in the strings before a cor anglais solo appears. I know little about this instrument, but it does have a particularly memorable sound which permeates into the texture of the music. As this section diffuses, the huge rhythmic energy of the opening stanza returns, this time held together by semiquavers in the bongos and syncopated stabs from the horns.

Sculthorpe demonstrates just how memorable rhythm can be in any composition. It directly affects how the listener interprets Kakadu, perhaps slightly more than the other musical elements. I found that different images of the Australian environment came to mind depending largely on what was happening rhythmically at the time. That said, texture is also incredibly important in conveying the sights and sounds of the natural environment in this piece. Once again, I am astounded by a composer’s ability to reflect what it is they are envisaging through their music. This is something I strive for in my own composing.

-Tully

Peter Sculthorpe – Mangrove (1979)

Mangrove is a contemporary orchestral work composed for brass instruments (4 horns, 2 trumpets, 2 trombones, bass trombone and tuba), a string section (2 violins, 1 viola, 1 cello, 1 double bass) and a range of percussion instruments, including tam-tam and Chinese cymbal.

In the first section the trumpet enters with a brisk demisemiquaver motif which is then continually swapped between the brass instruments. A syncopated melodic theme played by the second trumpet and trombone helps provide the rhythmic emphasis. Subtle crescendos are employed to great effect throughout this first movement; they seem designed to trick the listener into believing that a climax is about to occur, before the piece suddenly drops back down to a quieter dynamic once again. One bongo and two congas enter as the supporting percussion section, drumming strong triplets against the syncopated melodic themes. These triplets signal the beginning of a much more obvious increase in dynamic, culminating in a climactic passage involving loud, vivid trills from all instruments.

Strings are introduced next, playing a more reflective, mysterious theme involving disjunct melodic leaps. Following a brief rubato passage involving a melody from the double bass, the first instance of fuori di passo (out of step) appears. This term is used to indicate that the given notes for an instrument be played either a little behind or a little ahead of the beat. While the first violin plays a strictly-notated legato melody, the second violin is able to phrase the melody at will; this often creates a strange echo effect at various points in the piece. The next main section involves fuori di passo passages on the violins, the atmospheric sounds of the Chinese cymbal, didjeridu and tam-tam (a percussion instrument similar to a gong), and low, resounding long notes from the horns.

What follows is one of the most memorable parts of Mangrove. After a powerful held chord signals the end of the previous section, pianissimo violin trills emerge from within the thick texture, before leading into a tutti section. Each string instrument is then instructed to perform some kind of rapid action; one violin employs a quarter-tone vibrato, another violin plays a rapid succession of notes within a given range, the viola is required to quickly glissando up or down from any high note. This combining of the string section creates an unbelievably similar sound to that of a squealing group of birds; in fact, according to Sculthorpe’s notes, this was the only music in the work intended to be specifically descriptive.

Another resounding fuori di passo section comes next, ending with an elongated didjeridu solo which, strangely enough, is not marked anywhere on the score (didjeridu is not even listed as an instrument at the beginning). The pulsing beat created by clapsticks and the unique timbre of the didjeridu is great to listen to nevertheless.

The original demisemiquaver motif then returns, again on the trumpet and accompanied by a driving, accented semiquaver pattern on the bongo and congas. The full string section then enters, again creating the distinct bird sounds. A huge climax follows, again with all instruments trilling away as loudly as possible. The remaining sections of the piece are similar to those mentioned earlier; a broad passage of wide melodic leaps on the strings, and another fuori di passo section.

I have written a lot here, however I have really only touched on the form of the piece. You really need to listen to the work to fully appreciate the use of the constantly changing dynamics, the range of articulations, and especially the effect created by employing fuori di passo between the violins and horns. Sculthorpe’s aim with this composition was not to literally describe a mangrove in music; rather, he wanted to portray his overall feelings about mangroves. I can’t say I’ve ever had any particular feelings towards mangroves, but after listening to this piece, perhaps I should.

[The Muse @ 11 with Matt and Tully – Wednesdays 11-12am, www.radiomonash.net]

Goodbye!

- Tully

Kakadu (1988) – Peter Sculthorpe (1929-still kicking)

I thought I’d kick off my blogging with a piece from the list I was slightly familiar with. Unfortunately for me that ended up being a work by Sculthorpe. Not that I don’t like his work, but doing any sort of analysis on his stuff scares me a bit.

I was lucky enough to perform this with an orchestra a few years ago, however sitting at the back of an orchestra with the percussion section in my ear then, meant that this time I was listening to a lot of this for the first time.

As the title suggests, the work is based on Sculthorpes reflections on the Kakadu National Park in northern Australia. Large parts of the material used are either based on native tunes from the people of Arnhem land, or extended techniques designed to re-create bird sounds and other bush noises.

The piece begins with a syncopated figure in the Violins and Viola. The initial harmony of the 3 parts is interesting with the viola and 2^nd violin stay mostly static, playing a very dissonant C(4) and Db(4) respectively, whilst the 1^st violins create some degree of ‘melody’ over the top using the notes C, Db and Bb an octave above the accompanying parts. At bar 15 the trumpets and trombone take over the initial theme whilst the top strings introduce new material in the background.

Syncopation, Poly-rhythms, changes in meter and non metered sections appear throughout the work, making it quite challenging to read, but it is definitely the use of dissonance that has me most interested. Sculthorpe initially begins the work with a key signature of four flats, though analysis of the score would suggest we are in a variation of C minor and the Db has been added to the key signature to avoid constant accidentals. At various points the key signature is removed. It seems this is intended more to allow easier reading of the constant chromaticism, than to suggest a move to C Major or A minor. During the long cor anglais solo the scoring of the violins sees not only a constant use of a major 7^th between the two parts, but he also writes the 2nds violins on the repeated higher note (B) with the 1sts playing a more melodic phrase around C (a major 7^th below).

Despite the constant use of chromatics, the French horn feature that begins at Section 4 (page 7 on the score) stands out as it is predominately a major scale descending .

Some of the main themes are reprised in the final section underneath a soaring trumpet figure that reaches a large climax in the 2^nd last bar as the entire orchestra holds a C major chord at ‘forte-fortissimo’ with the woodwind section filling in all the notes of the C major scale in the upper octaves and the percussion section entering with a final crash on beat 4 of the bar.

I’d strongly recommend listening to this for the Cor Anglais solo in the middle. It is so sparse, yet so full. So simple, yet so complex. So Chromatic, yet somewhat pleasant to listen to. I’m impressed!

Warren.