From: mccomt@marcus.its.rpi.edu (Todd Michel McComb)
Subject: Scelsi: review and discussion
Summary: Part II of II
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 19:32:05 GMT


[Continued from previous article... --tm]

Chukrum (1963) seems to have been first performed in connection with preparing
Accord's set of Scelsi's orchestral music.  It is in four movements, lasting
under eighteen minutes, and in many ways is conceived as a string quartet
written for extended forces -- and as such would be Scelsi's only late quartet
in four movements.  Chukrum is written for a full-sized string orchestra, and
since it was prior to his employment of string by string notation, the
complexity of sound is likely quite similar to the later pieces for smaller
forces, discussed above.  The origin of the word Chukrum is completely unknown
at this point (though the nature of the piece leads me to associate it with
'kernel' or 'fulcrum' and seek the origin in the middle-east.)  The piece
presents a distilled microcosm of Scelsi's interior harmony: the basic
referent is A major, though there is never any vertical harmonic writing.
The first and fourth movements are the longest of the set: the first is a
strict palindrome beginning on A and reaching to the fifth, complete with 
dramatic rhythmic elements; the fourth movement is a repetition and
recapitulation of the first, not exactly the same, in a way such that an
asymmetric form is introduced.  The second movement is limited almost entirely
to the major third, with a luminous rise to the fifth in its last moments; it
contains several percussive effects, interspersed with ethereal microtonal and
resonant writing.  The third movement, the shortest of the four, is a violent
rhythmic surge from the minor third to the fourth, largely obliterating the
preceding harmonic references, and ending in an emphatic rhythmic gesture.
The varied repetition of the opening in the fourth movement lends a peculiar
re-entrant effect (already begun with the strict palindromic form of the
first movement) to the piece: on repeated listening it seems to close in on
itself, a procedure which actually heightens the timeless quality of this
singular work, and is provided a precedent by Scelsi's previous redefinition
of material in compositions such as the first and second quartets.  In
addition, the large group of strings gives at times an overwhelming, massive
intensity of sound.  Chukrum really stands alone in Scelsi's output, an
encapsulation of much of his sense of harmonic form -- though neglecting
vertical writing -- but of course including his handling of microtones, his 
strong sense of rhythm, and his ability and desire to alter his material at
the conclusion of a piece.

In 1965, the year following Xnoybis for solo violin, Scelsi wrote his
Violin Concerto, Anahit.  The scoring of the orchestra is: two flutes, bass
flute, english horn, clarinet, bass clarinet, two horns, trumpet, tenor
saxophone, two trombones, two violas, two cellos, and two double basses.
The solo violin is re-tuned to G-G-B-D, increasing the concentration required
of the soloist considerably, and again notated string by string.  Unusually
for Scelsi, this work was also performed the year after it was written: in
Athens with Devy Erlih (the same man who had premiered Xnoybis in 1964) as
soloist in 1966.  The subtitle is "Lyric Poem dedicated to Venus" and Anahit
is the ancient Egyptian name for Venus, as well as being the name of the main
female deity in ancient Asia Minor.  The form of the work is reminiscent of
the ternary architecture of Hymnos, though Anahit is in three distinct
sections which are built on the golden section rather than linear symmetry.
The work is thirteen minutes in length, the middle section being an extended
cadenza for the solo violin centered at the golden section (i.e. the eight
minute mark).  In the two framing sections, the violin continues to operate
in microtones and is supported harmonically by the orchestra.  The first
movement is predominately in G minor with the leading tone F# playing an
important role; it starts slowly with the violin working out an ascending
line, cadences in an orchestral interlude dominated by the brass at the
golden section of this movement (i.e. just under the five minute mark), 
continues the preceding development, and then ends in another more subdued
orchestral interlude just before the cadenza (beginning at the seven minute
mark).  After the beautifully ethereal microtonal cadenza, the second movement
is predominately in G major reaching to high F# and dominated throughout
by the solo violin; this movement builds a sort of pulsating wave which
recapitulates the previous material and fades away as the violin reaches high
G.  Anahit is a beautiful, lyrical work and provides an interesting glimpse
of Scelsi's use of the concerto format, with the soloist given over entirely
to intense microtonal development and supported in harmony by the orchestral
accompaniment.

Throughout his Third Period, Scelsi wrote vocal music -- this begins with
unaccompanied songs already in 1960, and progresses to one of Scelsi's most
important chamber works: Khoom (1962) for soprano voice, horn, string quartet
and percussion.  The work is in seven movements, subtitled: "Seven Episodes of
an unwritten story of Love and Death in a distant land."  Khoom is a powerful
succession of narrative episodes, dominated by the vocalist who is accompanied
by various combinations of instruments.  The text of the work is entirely of
words made up by Scelsi, a technique he had already used in The Birth of the
Verb (La Nascita del Verbo; 1948) and was to continue to use in most of his
other vocal music.  Of course, he was not the first to do this -- in fact,
Khoom is rather similar to Messiaen's Harawi in general idea -- but the
semantic content which emerges from these syllables is eerily effective.
Khoom also marks the first important work in Scelsi's collaboration with the
Japanese singer, Michiko Hirayama whose voice continued to be the model for
much of Scelsi's future vocal output.  1962 is also the year in which the
series of songs, Canti del Capricorno (written specifically for Hirayama's
voice as an instrument), was begun; and there are several other vocal works,
some with chamber accompaniment, which were written during the 60s.  Another
series of works which belong to the Third Period are Scelsi's Rites (already
pre-figured by I Presagi in 1958): there are three compositions with this
title for different chamber forces and dedicated to different historical
personages.  This series of rites reaches something of a climax with Okanagon
(1968) for harp, tamtam and double bass (a piece which was recorded several
years ago, but is now unavailable).  Finally, there is a continuance of
choral writing with Yliam (1964) (the title may be a variant of Ilium --
ancient Troy) and Tkrdg (1968) for six-voice choir, electric guitar and
percussion.

In 1966, Scelsi wrote his most complex, dramatic and incredible work: the
choral and orchestral masterpiece, Uaxuctum.  This extraordinary piece is in
five movements, totaling approximately twenty minutes.  In addition to the
large chorus, written at an astonishingly difficult technical level, the work
is scored for: four vocal soloists (two sopranos, two tenors, electronically
amplified), ondes Martenot solo, vibraphone, sistrum, Eb clarinet, Bb
clarinet, bass clarinet, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, bass tuba,
double bass tuba, six double basses, timpani and seven other percussionists
(playing on such instruments as the rubbed two-hundred liter can, a large
aluminum hemisphere, and a two-meter high sheet of metal).  The chorus is
written in ten and twelve parts, incorporating all variety of microtonal
manipulations, as well as breathing and other guttural and nasal sounds.  This
piece is certainly Scelsi's most difficult to perform, and was not premiered
until October 12th, 1987 by the Cologne Radio Chorus and Symphony Orchestra.
Uaxuctum is subtitled: "The legend of the Maya city, destroyed by themselves
for religious reasons" and corresponds to an actual Maya city in Peten,
Guatemala which flourished during the first millennium AD; in addition, the
Mexican state of Oaxaca comes from the same ancient meso-american root.  This
is an intensely dramatic work, and the most bizarre in Scelsi's output.  It
depicts the end of an ancient civilization -- residing in Central America,
but with mythical roots extending back to Egypt and beyond -- it is the last
flowering of a mystical and mythological culture which was slowly destroyed
by our modern world.  In this case, Scelsi says, the Mayans made a conscious
decision to end the city themselves.  Uaxuctum incorporates harmonic elements
throughout, and is extremely difficult to come to terms with.  The first
movement, the longest of the five, is a grand overture; it begins in quiet
contemplation, only to be interrupted by the violent mystical revelation of
the chorus propelling this story into the present from the distant past, and
then sinking back into meditative tones with a presentiment of the upcoming
adventure.  In the wild and dramatic second movement, we enter the world of
the Mayans, complete with mysticism in all aspects of life; it is an
incredible and violent tour-de-force of orchestral writing.  The short third
movement opens with an atmosphere of foreboding, building into a realization
of things to come, and reaching a decision.  After a few seconds of silence,
the city of Uaxuctum is quickly destroyed and abandoned.  The fourth movement
is dominated by the chorus throughout, and presents the wisdom gained by the
Mayans as they gradually fade into oblivion.  The fifth movement returns to
the opening mood, and gives a dim recollection of the preceding events which
have now been told, in abstract form, to our time and civilization.  There
really are no proper words to describe this amazing piece, which presents
Scelsi at his most daring and innovative.  It is a world all to itself, and
a warning.

Konx-Om-Pax (1969) marks the ends of Scelsi's Third Period.  As well as
summarizing his basic material to that date, it his last piece which uses
extended movements and large forms.  The music of his Fourth Period was to
become increasingly transfigured.  Konx-Om-Pax is also one of Scelsi's most
effective compositions, using relatively simple material projected on a
broad canvas.  It is scored for large orchestra (including full strings, and
lacking only flutes) along with organ, and in the final movement a mixed
chorus.  It was premiered on February 6th, 1986 by the Hessian Radio Orchestra
in Frankfurt and conducted by Jurg Wyttenbach.  The title of the piece is
three words meaning 'peace,' in ancient Assyrian, Sanskrit and Latin.  It is
subtitled: "Three aspects of Sound: as the first motion of the immovable,
as creative force, as the sacred syllable 'Om.'"  Konx-Om-Pax is especially
effective at creating a feeling of peace, and as such is a particularly useful
piece for coping with the modern world.  The first movement is based entirely
on C, first treated as in inner pedal, and fans out harmonically at first
symmetrically and then asymmetrically with the addition of quarter tones,
rising to a great climax completely elaborating the underlying C.  This 
movement is a gradual gathering of harmonic forces, with great calming
effect.  The short second movement begins on F, slowly builds until unleashing
a great explosion of power in the form of rapid chromatic scales engulfing
everything in their path, and ends again on F.  The third movement is on A
(and recall that the movement from C to A was the basic feature of Quartet
No. 4 (1964)) and marks the entrance of the chorus, chanting only the syllable
Om, and supported by the orchestra.  This movement gives the impression
(however absurd it may seem) of process-music or even a fugue on the single
note theme, 'Om.'  This is accomplished by a tight interior chromaticism with
microtonal variations, a careful consideration of length of utterance and
inflection, and by the building of a countersubject out of harmonic
resonances.  The entries of 'Om' continue steadily throughout the slowly-paced
movement.  The movement is in three sections: the first builds slowly, sticking
almost entirely to 'Om' with single note responses; the second is an extended
episode dominated by the orchestra, with percussive punctuation, in which
harmonic associations are worked out in more detail; and the third re-
introduces the chorus on 'Om' along with the longer countersubject developed
in the previous episode, slowly fading away in a profound ending to this
majestic work.  In many ways, Konx-Om-Pax is Scelsi's most perfect creation:
it attests to his supreme power of harmony, and above all it is always
effective.  For many of Scelsi's works, it is necessary to have the proper
frame of mind in order to approach, but here that frame of mind is established
within the twenty-minute work itself.  Hence other pieces can be ineffective
at times, but with Konx-Om-Pax this is never the case.

***

Scelsi's Fourth Period begins in 1970 with a return to the purely tonal
idiom in Antifona for tenor solo and eight-voice male choir.  It is a
strict antiphon, using only the name 'Jesu' built into simple and austere
melodies, in which the tenor alternates with the choir usually in unison; it
is also among the most relaxed.  At fourteen minutes, it is Scelsi's longest
recorded single movement.  The Three Latin Prayers (Ave Maria, Pater Noster,
Alleluia; 1970) are also written in austere tonality, this time for solo
voice.  Here Scelsi is re-asserting his love for tonality, as well as
returning to traditional Latin lyrics.  On the whole, the music of the
early-70s is marked by extremely short pieces, completely transfigured, and
almost crystalline in their perfection; Scelsi had moved past the
consolidation of his Third Period into a time when he was to give expression
to his musical intuition in its purest form.  Most of these compositions come
in pairs: two pieces for solo violin, two for solo cello, two for solo double
bass; as well as a return to writing for string duos: two violins, cello and
double bass, two double basses.  This series of music for double bass also
marks Scelsi's association with Fernando Grillo.  The duo for two violins,
Arc-en-ciel (Rainbow; 1973), is one of his finest mystic revelations.  It
is in one movement, lasting under five minutes, yet gives witness to a
profound vision of time and sound.  Arc-en-ciel consists almost entirely of
microtonal glissandi in the highest register, extending beyond and within
itself.  The vocal works of this period also come in pairs, along with
Pranam I (1972) and Pranam II (1973) -- the first for voice and chamber
orchestra, the second for a chamber orchestra of nine musicians.  Pranam is
an Indian gesture of greeting, and Pranam II is Scelsi's retrospective look
at his previous achievements: it contains the performance note: "Though the
tempo and other directions must be followed, a certain amount of flexibility
of phrasing is required in order to create an impression of breathing
(inhalation, exhalation, suspended respiration and so on) or the image of a
wave on the sea."  This same note could apply to much of Scelsi's Fourth
Period music, and Pranam II (in one movement, lasting under seven minutes) is
a particularly fine example of his flowing and eternal style.

The last period also marks Scelsi's return to keyboard writing with In Nomine
Lucis (1974) for organ and Aitsi (1974) for prepared piano.  In Nomine Lucis
(In the Name of Light) consists of two works for organ (though mysteriously
titled as I & V, indicating that three intervening ones may yet turn up), one
written for chromatic electric organ and the other for quarter-tone electric
organ.  Each presents a re-working of the basic theme of Konx-Om-Pax (1969),
though compressed into a single movement of approximately five minutes.  As
the title suggests, In Nomine Lucis is one of Scelsi's most luminous works,
building into a massive complex of sound and then ebbing away -- the second,
with its quarter-tone writing, is an especially powerful invocation.  Aitsi
(whose title probably comes from the Greek stem meaning 'cause') is Scelsi's
return to the piano after almost twenty years of abandonment.  In this case,
its sound is de-tempered and manipulated by electronics.  This one movement
work of approximately six movements is built out of stacked chords whose
constituent elements are subjected to varying resonant decays: it is perhaps
Scelsi's most complex and daring vision of sound.  Aitsi also forms the basis
for the String Quartet No. 5 (1985) which was precipitated by the death of
Scelsi's close friend, the French poet Henri Micheaux.  Finally, Scelsi's
last original work is Maknongan (1976, at which point he was over seventy
years old, and had produced more than one hundred works of incredible variety
and startling originality) for either bass tuba, contra-bassoon, bass
saxophone, bass flute or double string bass; it has been recorded on both
contra-bassoon and double bass.  The title has some meaning for me (though
I have been unable to exactly place the term; possibly implying a Celtic
origin), and the extremely short piece (under four minutes) is his most
compact, abstract (particularly given the variety of instruments allowed in
the score), and monodic mystical epic in sound.

In 1974, Scelsi wrote his final piece for large orchestra, again including
chorus & organ and excluding violins: Pfhat.  Pfhat was premiered by Jurg
Wyttenbach and the Hessian Radio Orchestra in Frankfurt on February 6th, 1986.
It is in four movements, totaling under nine minutes.  The subtitle reads:
"A flash... and the sky opened!" and the title is apparently chosen for its
onomatopoeic quality.  This is an extremely concise depiction of mystical
revelation for full orchestra, divided into four brief movements each of which
presents a single gesture in sound.  The first movement is based on the
choir's breathing sounds, supported by only thirteen instruments.  Here we
have the emergence of sound from immobility, leading into an 'om'-ing from the
tubas, and anticipating the upcoming surge of power.  The very short second
movement consists of a sudden ringing cluster for full orchestra and chorus,
gradually fading away.  The slow third movement begins with a quiet fanfare
punctuated by ringing intervals, and gradually builds with the om-ing and
sighing of the chorus into a large complex of sound elaborating a single
note.  The eerie fourth movement presents us with revelation from the open
sky: the piccolo, flute, celesta, piano and organ play a very high ostinato
on a semi-tone while the rest of the orchestra and chorus quickly ring
high-pitched dinner bells.  The glittering, crystalline and static sound is
certainly unique in the symphonic literature.  This work (and the last
movement in particular!) is Scelsi's most singular attempt at ushering the
listener into his sound universe.  The succession of movements is highly
dramatic, and listening to Pfhat for the first time is certain to be one of
one's most intense listening experiences.  Whether this highly polished work
continues to be effective is debatable, but at times it has really worked for
me.  Hence it is with an attempt to guide the listener that Scelsi ends his
orchestral output -- his creative energy was to ebb away in the face of his
increasing age during the mid-70s (though he did spend time working with
performers, leading to the performance of much of the chamber music), finally
exhausting itself in the re-scoring of Aitsi as String Quartet No. 5 in
1985, and then finding fulfillment in the orchestral premieres of the late-
80s.

***

Giacinto Scelsi (1905-1988) had a creative life lasting fifty-three years
during which he composed a huge assortment of pieces in two distinct styles,
the last of which has been divided into four phases.  Much of his musical
contribution consists of a re-intensification of chamber music -- however,
his series of orchestral works is among his most impressive testimony.
Scelsi developed a style in which microtonal writing not only found a place,
but formed the core of his expression.  He successfully combined musical
styles from around the world, incorporating them into his personal view of
the mystical power of sound.  It should be apparent from this article that
the traditional language of music theory is largely inadequate for describing
Scelsi's music; at the very least, these ideas must be modified into an
entirely different context.  I have tried to refrain from engaging in
continual flowery epithets, though this has not always been successful: words
are really foreign to this music, and in describing my own feelings for it
I have sometimes relied on the vaguest of mystical descriptions -- hopefully
this will serve to prompt other listeners to discover these pieces for
themselves.  Scelsi's influence on contemporary music is only beginning, and
the 3-CD set of orchestral music from Accord marks the major inauguration of
this era.  This series is one of the most important recording projects of our
time.

The three discs were recorded in 1988, 1989 and 1990 -- shortly following
Scelsi's death -- and then packaged as a set.  The first disc (Aion (1961),
Pfhat (1974), Konx-Om-Pax (1969)) is the most powerful and characteristic of
the set.  Here we find Scelsi's most abstract and symphonic work, followed
by his most singular and specific, followed by his most majestic and
effective.  Starting with the awesome rhythmic power of the first movement
of Aion, the disc ends in the peaceful triumph of the final om-ing of Konx-
Om-Pax, an incredible journey in sound.  The second disc (Quattro Pezzi
(1959), Anahit (1965), Uaxuctum (1966)) is the most varied and experimental
of the set.  It begins with Scelsi's most revolutionary exploration of the
power of a single sound -- the piece which unlocks his great series of
masterpieces during the 1960s, followed by his most beautifully lyrical
orchestral work, and climaxing in the incredible mystic drama of his most
complex and difficult creation.  Finally, the third disc (Hurqualia (1960),
Hymnos (1963), Chukrum (1963)) fills out the set.  It begins with the
epic return to full orchestra in Hurqualia, followed by the healing return
to harmony in Hymnos, and ends the entire set with the symphonic 'quartet'
Chukrum presenting all aspects of his mature style.  Scelsi's music for
orchestra is his supreme contribution to the most characteristic genre of
western classical music -- these are pieces which will be heralded far into
the future of music.


Your servant and messenger,
T. M. McComb

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