From: mccomt@marcus.its.rpi.edu (Todd Michel McComb)
Subject: Scelsi: review and discussion
Summary: Part I of II
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 19:29:46 GMT


Giacinto Scelsi was born on January 8th, 1905 to an aristocratic family
living on an old estate in the country surrounding Naples in southern
Italy.  Though he had little formal musical training, he is now recognized
as one of the most creative composers of our century.

Scelsi's mature music is marked by a supreme concentration on single
notes, combined with a masterly sense of form.  Scelsi revolutionized
the role of sound in western music -- his best known work is the Quattro
Pezzi per Orchestra, each on a single note.  These single notes are
elaborated through microtonal shadings, harmonic allusions, and variations
in timbre and dynamics.  It is impossible to express the immense power
of this apparently simple music in words.

Fortunately, a set of Scelsi's orchestral music has recently been released
on three CDs: Accord 201692.  This article will primarily discuss the music
on this set, and will hopefully serve as an introduction for interested
listeners.  The works recorded (please refer to the separately posted
discography for information on other recordings) on this set are:
	Disc 1: Aion, Pfhat, Konx-Om-Pax
	Disc 2: Quattro Pezzi, Anahit, Uaxuctum
	Disc 3: Hurqualia, Hymnos, Chukrum
which belong to Scelsi's later phase, and attest to a supreme contribution
in redefining classical music.  The music is masterly performed by the
Radio-Television Orchestra and Choir of Krakow, directed by Jurg Wyttenbach.
Most of these works had to wait until the late-80s for a first performance,
though Scelsi was still able to attend before passing away on August 9, 1988.

***

The placement of these works within Scelsi's large output can be found
in the separately posted list of compositions.  This list has been divided
into four periods -- such a distinction is, of course, in some ways arbitrary;
however, the nature of the music lends itself well to this division and in
particular it is important to know the break between the first and second
groups.  In fact, Scelsi's music in his Second Period represents a dramatic
departure from the trends of his time and is almost completely unconnected
with the more traditional music of his First Period; some ideas do continue
intact, such as his sense of form, but on the whole his output could easily
(assuming the daunting technical skill involved, of course!) have been written
by two different composers.  Scelsi was to state with some pride that by the
early-50s he had forgotten everything he ever knew about music.

Scelsi's early music is based in the music of the time: he studied with a
pupil of Alban Berg in Vienna, as well as with a follower of Scriabin in
Switzerland.  Though little of this early music is recorded and thus
definitive conclusions are impossible, it is easy to notice Scelsi's interest
in strict form from the titles of these compositions (ex. Introduction and
Fugue, Variations, etc.)  In addition, the majority of this music was written
for the piano: an instrument on which Scelsi was a virtuoso performer.
Scelsi's counterpoint in this period is very strict, making use of
dodecaphony and other neo-classic and neo-baroque elements.  Scelsi's
paradigm is strict counterpoint defining harmony, in much the same idiom as
K. S. Sorabji -- the comparison of these two figures is highly appropriate
for a variety of reasons: position outside the mainstream, pianistic
virtuosity, and above all a neo-baroque paradigm within a chromatic
framework.  However, Scelsi shows a marked tendency toward thematic
compression and brevity which is certainly absent from Sorabji.

During World War II, Scelsi wrote his String Quartet No. 1 (1944) which
is one of his most important early compositions.  During this same period,
his wife left him and he later underwent some sort of psychological
breakdown.  His therapy eventually consisted of playing a single note on
a piano over and over again, and this was to lead the way to his new style.
The last work which Scelsi composed during his First Period was the
cantata La Nascita del Verbo (1948), and this piece continued to have profound
implications (though apparently not pleasant ones) for him when it was
performed in 1950.  The cantata has not been performed since then, and remains
Scelsi's most important unrecorded work.  The String Quartet No. 1 has been
recorded, and the following analysis should help in understanding Scelsi's
early music... and in understanding the direction from which he had come when
initiating his new style.

The first quartet is in four movements which basically correspond to the
classical order.  The first movement is a set of linked variations out of
which emerges a compressed sonata form.  The main idea is the theme of Bach's
Chaconne in D minor (pointed out to me by Prof. Angelo Frascarelli) which is
stacked vertically into two block chords -- this compression of horizontal
material into the vertical domain anticipates some of Scelsi's later music
(ex. Aitsi) and can be seen as deriving from other composers of the time,
such as Webern.  The set of variations is divided into three sections of
equal length; the first section varies the chaconne idea by a variety of
methods including dodecaphony, in a manner recalling Berg; the second section
begins with slow, mysterious counterpoint during which the theme of
Beethoven's Grosse Fuge is introduced in a highly disguised form as the
subsidiary idea and then subjected to variation; the third section
recapitulates the primary chaconne theme and continues with variations on the
two ideas together, ending in a very brief coda during which the chaconne
and fugue are stated simultaneously in the smallest possible space.  Skipping
to the fourth movement... here the form is divided into two sections of which
the first is slightly longer.  The principal idea of the first section is the
Grosse Fuge treated in cancrizan, and then elaborated contrapuntally in such
a way as to introduce the chaconne as the underlying harmonic context; this
section ends in slow polyphony in the style of the second movement -- during
which the fugue theme is treated in diminution within the layout of the
chaconne.  The second section begins with a recapitulation of the chaconne
which is then varied harmonically, leading to an extended coda in which the
preceding chromatic polyphony is translated into a purely tonal C major.  This
coda constitutes the ending of the entire piece and shows Scelsi's dedication
to tonality even within this complex idiom -- it also ends on a chord in
fourths which anticipates the open cadential motion prevalent in his later
output, a style which has something in common with the vocal polyphony of the
early renaissance.  The brief third movement is a ternary scherzo, complete
with serial trio.  This is rhythmic process-music which recalls Stravinsky,
and in some ways anticipates Messiaen.  The slow second movement is the heart
of the entire work, and here Scelsi is his most original.  It opens with
pizzicato chords which are packed into the low register of the cello and
gradually dissolve into slow and sublime polyphony using the two main ideas
of the work.  The chords re-assert themselves from time to time, and the
polyphony takes on fantastic elements; the style is more extended and personal
in this movement and the harmonic transitions have something of Scriabin
about them.  The movement eventually ends in a slow, ethereal, transfigured
coda.  Scelsi's Quartet No. 1 (1944) is an extremely powerful and moving
work, built on a strict contrapuntal paradigm, incorporating the musical
trends of its time.  Though it is quite different from his later music, it
is a masterpiece on its own merit -- one of the greatest quartets ever
written, and one of the finest musical examples of its period.

***

Hence, it was with a profound knowledge of form, counterpoint, and the
musical directions of his time that Scelsi was to begin his Second Period.
Here the musical ideas of the East and India in particular suddenly play
a large role in his music -- the result being an immense intensification
of the power of the single sound.  When Scelsi began composing again in
1952, he turned immediately to his own instrument: the piano, and produced
a quick succession of suites and other sets of pieces.  There is now an
emphasis on the repetition of notes, leading to ostinato formations and
incorporating clusters, resonance effects, subtle harmony and toccata
structures.  Several passages have resemblance to the late piano style of
Scriabin, but in addition there is a far-flung, almost encyclopedic range
of references to other musics both western and beyond.  Here the allusions
can be quite subtle and difficult to place -- in fact, considering that
these piano suites most likely were notated from Scelsi's improvisations,
it is likely that these references emerge entirely subconsciously.  There
is an increasing preoccupation with formal symmetries, especially those
based on the golden mean and during the most violent harmonic passages,
there is an underlying feeling of peace -- something which makes this music
sound quite different from that of Bartok, regardless of the similarity
in language used to describe it -- culminating in the Peace Suite, No. 9
(1953), and serving as a foundation for Scelsi's further exploration of
sound.

The tightest (with only four movements, compared to the nine of Suite No. 9,
totaling under fifteen minutes in length) and most masterful of this piano
music is undoubtedly the Quattro Illustrazioni (1953) which is for all
practical purposes a classical sonata.  Here the four illustrations depict
four metamorphoses (or avataras) of the Indian deity Vishnu.  This is Scelsi's
first direct reference to Indian mythology in his music -- something which was
to continue throughout his output.  Scelsi never uses Indian musical forms or
instruments, but there is definitely an eastern current underlying the
remainder of his music; here it asserts itself in a subtle and powerful use
of rhythm built from ostinato notes and into chords.  The opening movement
'Shesha' shows Vishnu asleep as the body of the universe, and the opening
chords are to form the basis for the whole work.  The second movement 'Varaha'
is a powerful and destructive scherzo-style movement depicting Vishnu as a
wild boar ravaging the world.  This leads to the majestic 'Rama' movement
and then to the concluding meditative 'Krishna.'  This "sonata" shows much of
Scelsi's mature style: an eastern mystic awareness (and it should be noted
that in Indian tradition, sound or Nada-Brahma is the underlying basis of the
universe) brought into western language on western instruments (though later
incorporating less traditional instruments and combinations) and written in
classical sequences.  Later this is to combine with a profound feeling for the
interior of sound and with it the use of microtones and glissandi (which again
play an important role in Indian vocal music) providing even more violent and
energetic outbursts surrounded by sublime harmony.

This piano music accomplishes the beginning of a revolution in Scelsi's
music in which extreme power and tension can be drawn from a single note.
Already the context can be quite dramatic as in the thrashing of Varaha,
and resonance plays a large role -- as it no doubt did for Scelsi during his
long recovery from western musical malaise during which he played his single
note over and over again and listened to the resonance and decay, and most
importantly the lack of uniformity even within a single sound.  This is
really Scelsi's most profound realization: that a single sound is not a
musical point in any real sense, it is a dynamic entity shaped by a variety
of influences, and it is to his glory that he not only realized this fact
but set it to music in a way that no one else has ever done.  By the mid-50s,
Scelsi was to totally abandon the piano which had until then been his most
important means of expression.  This must have been very difficult for him,
but at the same time freed him even more from his earlier thoughts: by then
he had truly forgotten everything.  It was also necessary to move to
instruments accommodating microtones, string in particular, in order to
completely realize his new musical ideas.  Hence the piano music does not
reveal Scelsi in his later phases, but it still contains some masterful and
above all purely pianistic writing which should not be neglected -- please
refer to a previous article which reviews Scelsi's piano music.

One thing which had been accomplished in Scelsi's piano music, and
particularly in the Suite No. 10, was that a single tone could be changed
in pitch without losing its identity as the same tone.  In the world of
equal temperament, this was done by shifting the harmonic context intact with
the shift of the note, usually accomplished via ostinato.  Obviously, this
idea takes on even more promise using microtonal glissandi and it is in this
interior chromaticism that Scelsi really redefines music -- any notion of
"perfect pitch" becomes not only unnecessary, but a real handicap to following
the ebb and flow of the music.  In the mid-50s, Scelsi returns to string
writing (which he had used sparingly in his First Period) with a series
of Divertimenti for solo violin.  The title of Divertimento is interesting
for what it brings in the music: this is purely tonal music written in
traditional style (obviously derived primarily from Bach's solo violin
Sonatas) and incorporating virtuosic playing.  The Divertimento No. 3 has
been recorded, and is yet another masterpiece in the tonal idiom -- this
music has an intense and timeless quality (perhaps most closely akin to
the solo violin sonatas of Ysaye) and is really a sonata (in four movements)
of great scope and invention.  The fact that Scelsi could write such fine
violin music (and these 'divertimenti' are arguably the finest in this idiom
since Bach) is quite astounding -- and shows again that Scelsi is far from
abandoning tradition.

***

Scelsi was fifty years old in 1955, and in the midst of establishing his
epoch-making style which was to yield a succession of individual masterpieces
in the 1960s.  Though his aristocratic position freed him from financial
worries, his emotional life must have been difficult indeed marked as it was
by extreme self-criticism and now by a completely solitary existence.  He
had traveled extensively in India and Nepal, learning much of eastern yoga
and mysticism -- he had essentially withdrawn into himself in order to
extract his most profound music, a task which must have racked him and yet
yielded a huge number of musical works, works which show not only a profound
musical intuition but a deep concern for performance.  The fact that this
music can be performed as written on a wide variety of instruments and in an
idiomatic way is supreme testimony to his deep involvement, despite his lonely
existence.  By this time Scelsi had restricted himself to linguistic
expression only through French poetry -- he had disavowed any analysis or
explanation of himself or his music, indeed refusing much personal contact
as well as photographs.  He had moved to an apartment in Rome, overlooking
the ancient Roman Forum, and had established an environment in which his
intuition was to blossom apart from the mainstream of music, and he had
returned to a deeply religious nature incorporating elements from around the
world.  Scelsi's use of eastern musical elements is never tacked on, and
he does not engage in pure exoticism: he redefines the basis of music using
these elements out of which spring a new logic which is both western and
eastern at its core.  Here his music is more deeply eastern than Messiaen's
use of Hindu modes of melody and harmony, or of Tournemire's quintessential
modal development based in Catholic choral thinking.  Scelsi matches
Tournemire in his subtle and philosophical use of extended modality as no one
else has, and rises above Messiaen's juxtapositions to a more unified view of
form -- he does this by finding a certain innocence and power in sound itself,
and redefining his material at its core.  In addition, Scelsi is not bound to
the chromatic scale, and one is immediately reminded that middle-eastern modes
make explicit use of quarter tones.  Scelsi is no longer a composer, but in
his own words: a messenger.

Scelsi's Second Period begins with his return to composition with the piano
music, moves through a variety of short as well as classically-sized
compositions for solo instruments of all kinds, and ends in a return to
ensemble thinking climaxing in the Quattro Pezzi per orchestra (1959).  By
this time, the basic aspects of his mature style have been established: this
style was to find its perfect expression in the music of his Third Period.
In the mid-50s, as well as concluding his piano output and writing his
marvelous series of tonal Divertimenti for solo violin, Scelsi wrote many
short pieces for wind instruments.  This music includes not only the influence
of Hindu sound philosophy from India and the far east, but also of the
near east: Greece, Egypt, Syria, Arabia, Byzantium.  Scelsi's titles become
more obscure, and draw on Latin, Ancient Greek, Egyptian, Assyrian, Sanskrit,
even Mayan and other words which have been impossible to identify.  There is
a feeling for middle eastern modality in some of this wind music: Pwyll (1954)
for flute evokes Greece, and Ixor (1956) for reeds evokes the ancient Egyptian
ney.  The many short solo pieces for woodwinds and brass, can easily be viewed
as studies for his later ensemble and orchestral music; in fact, many are
titled simply as 'pieces' which lends itself well to this interpretation.
He returns also to music for voice with instrumental accompaniment in Yamaon
(Yama is the Vedic ruler of the dead), a format which was to have increasing
interest for him.  It was during the 50s that Scelsi built the foundation for
his subsequent phenomenal music -- music which eventually becomes totally
transfigured by the early 70s.

In addition to the many shorter pieces with perhaps a more restricted purpose,
Scelsi also began two of his greatest chamber masterpieces in the later 1950s.
The Trilogy for solo cello ranks as one of his most intimate works, the first
two parts of which (Triphon, Dithome) were written in 1957 while the third
(Ygghur) was completed in 1961 and only finally notated in 1965.  In addition,
the phenomenal Elegia per Ty for viola and cello was conceived in 1958, only
to be notated in 1966.  This disparity in dating some of Scelsi's music is
undoubtedly due to the fact that it was worked out in improvisation and in
fact recorded, only to be notated subsequently with the help of copyists.
The Trilogy is Scelsi's autobiography in sound to that point -- please see
the earlier posted article which deals with this series in some detail --
and it is also his first major attempt at developing his new polyphonic style.

This is a polyphony which emerges out of monody: Scelsi's movements have a
unity of gesture about them even when not restricted to a single note (which
is actually rarely the case) and the polyphony of his string writing is
contained within a purely melodic conception which is articulated
polyphonically not just as ornamentation, but as an essential aspect of the
sound itself.  Scelsi's polyphonic style is undoubtedly drawn in part from
the more open style of the early Renaissance: Ockeghem and Busnois; and one
is reminded of Scelsi's early "medieval education," his position as a classics
scholar.  Beyond that, it draws from the Greek drama with its declamatory
style and unison writing.  Scelsi's love of polyphony and counterpoint is
already apparent from his early compositional work, such as the second
movement of the first quartet -- and his later polyphony continues to seek
a compactness of expression, though largely abandoning counterpoint
interpreted as such.  His writing for solo strings presents a variety of new
instrumental techniques, not least of which is his use of new types of mutes:
metallic and applied to individual strings, lending buzzing overtones as in
the Indian sitar.  This string polyphony was to find its perfection in the
mid-60s with his use of string by string notation, as in medieval tablature.
He also uses a variety of mutes for brass, illustrating his profound concern
for timbre.  Scelsi's polyphony is both ancient and modern, and particularly
in the works for solo strings presents the player with the difficult task of
retaining a unity of utterance while performing the complex individual parts,
and of course it is precisely on a stringed instrument that this program can
best be carried out.

In 1958, Scelsi returned to choral writing with his Tre canti popolari
for 4-voice choir and his Tre canti sacri for 8-voice choir.  It is precisely
in these three sacred songs (Angelus, Requiem and Gloria) that one can find
this polyphonic writing at its most intense and complex.  Each of these songs
(and one might call them motets) is approximately five minutes in length,
compact and uses tight formal structures.  One finds sustained notes, unison
writing leading to shimmering and buzzing overtones, quick movements in some
parts, slow glides between notes, sometimes convulsive verbal delivery, and
above all a powerful and mystical utterance outside of the normal flow of
time; the coda of the Gloria is especially effective in ending the set.  These
are tough pieces to crack, slices of eternity, and anticipate the extremely
complex choral style of Uaxuctum.  Another important work from the late-50s
is Kya for clarinet and seven instruments (1959).  This is one of two
concertante-style pieces in Scelsi's late output (the other being Anahit),
and presents a rather relaxed and open atmosphere.  In addition to being a
scrupulous study of timbre with particular reference to the solo clarinet, it
presents the basic cadential motion which is to continue in force through the
more complex orchestral works, Hurqualia and Aion.

Also in 1958, Scelsi wrote his String Trio.  This piece is a close companion
to the following year's Four Pieces for Orchestra: it is also in four
movements each based on a single note, and in fact the combination of 
movements in each of these two pieces serves to dissect the tritone.  In
the String Trio, the instrumental forces are of course much smaller and the
composition itself is slightly shorter -- each of the two being approximately
fifteen minutes in total length.  So, in some ways the trio is more
adventurous than the set for chamber orchestra: not only is the sequence of
pitches between movements complicated by transposition, but the third movement
of the trio has two important pitches instead of one.  At any rate, there
is an incredible tension about this piece which one cannot imagine from a 
description alone.  Scelsi's music has been compared with Ligeti's use of
micropolyphony; however it has quite a different effect and emerges from
a completely different source: there is no mechanical quality as one so often
finds in Ligeti, there is no formula of any kind, only a simple prescription
of boundaries in which the imagination of the composer is given free reign:
an idea going back to Josquin and beyond.

Scelsi's most famous work is the Quattro Pezzi su una nota sola (1959) for
chamber orchestra of twenty-six musicians.  Unusually for Scelsi's orchestral
music, this composition was performed shortly after it was written: in Paris
under Maurice Leroux on December 4th, 1961.  It gave the composer some amount
of recognition at the time, and is now known as one of the most pioneering 
works of the 20th Century: each piece sticks rigorously to a single note, the
succession being: F, B, Ab, A.  As is normal in Scelsi's orchestral music, the
instruments are concentrated in the low registers and include percussion:
alto flute, oboe, english horn, two clarinets, bass clarinet, bassoon, four
horns, saxophone, three trumpets, two trombones, bass tuba, musical saw,
timpani, bongos, tumba, suspended cymbal, small and large tamtam, two violas,
two cellos, double bass.  The four movements use slightly different forces,
and only the last combines all twenty-six musicians.  The pieces each
elaborate their single notes by means of variations in tessitura (unisons
and octave doublings), dynamics and timbre, as well as introducing microtonal
fluctuations and the occasional harmonic shadow; climaxes appear in these
various domains at different times, all formally derived from the golden
ratio.  This is Scelsi's premier revolutionary work, springing out of the
ether in an act of pure intuition.  There is no sense of monotony as one
might expect from the verbal description of the piece, or as one finds in
Glass' or other "minimal" music; there is no real predictability in the music:
it is spontaneous invention within a formal constraint which quickly
disappears in the face of the power of the sound.  The rhythm of the Quattro
Pezzi is both subtle and powerful: already Scelsi is modeling the presentation
on the act of breathing which is so important in yoga, and which is to become
ever more crucial in his Fourth Period.  There is an eternal quality about
the music which at times flows and at others halts in a suspended glimpse of
cosmic motion, it goes beyond itself and within itself, producing a heightened
sense of existence emerging from beyond.  This is derived from the infra-
chromatic nature of the piece, which as in all of Scelsi's mature music, draws
much of its musical direction from the complexities inherent within each
individual sound, both as regards duration/decay/resonance and timbre/
inflection/dynamics.  The brief first movement presents the melodic material
-- and it is indeed melodic, due to shading, rhythm and instrumental timbre --
in an eruption of incredible power; one could not imagine a more effective
introduction to this piece or to Scelsi's mature music in general.  After the
high drama of the second movement, the third (omitting percussion) has an
ethereal quality about it which hangs beyond time in the slowly decaying
sound of its final moments.  The fourth movement has an extreme finality,
with cadences punctuated by percussive outbursts, as if to say: I am sound.

***

Scelsi's Third Period begins with the great orchestral masterpiece, Hurqualia
(1960).  The work is in four movements, lasting under eighteen minutes, and
scored for piccolo, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, bass clarinet, two
bassoons, four horns, three trumpets, two trombones, two tubas, timpani, four
percussionists, strings excluding violins, and three sets of amplified
instruments: microphone one: oboe, english horn, Eb clarinet; microphone two:
horn, tenor saxophone, musical saw, viola, double bass; microphone three: two
trumpets, trombone.  Hurqualia was not performed until June 18th, 1986 at the
Holland Festival in Amsterdam directed by Arturo Tamayo -- Scelsi attended
every rehearsal.  It has been impossible to trace the origin of the term
'Hurqualia' to this point; a Sanskrit origin was conjectured, but now
abandoned.  It would seem to have some sort of dramatic (or perhaps rhythmic)
connotation -- Hurqualia is a tensely dramatic epic in sound.  As opposed
to the Quattro Pezzi of the previous year, intervals play a definite role
here, particularly the third: hence there are harmonic references, though
true harmony has to wait until Scelsi's later orchestral music.  Still there
is an underlying unity of sound, at times admitting contrasts contained
therein.  Hurqualia reaches a new level of rhythmic sophistication -- Harry
Halbriech likes to take every opportunity to compare Scelsi's massive sound
and seemingly immense lapses of time with Bruckner, though this comparison is
quite overdone by the second mention of Bruckner's 9th Symphony.  Scelsi's
rhythmic constructions emerge out of breathing rhythm, even when quite
intense; and the sophistication with which he constructs episodes outside of
time and subtle time relationships within the piece is far beyond Bruckner.
The closest comparison is with the extreme rhythmic complexity of South Indian
Carnatic music (please see the Indian Classical Discography posted some time
ago, and in particular one is referred to Dr. Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer for
the kind of rhythmic sophistication which is found in this music.)  So, in
Hurqualia we have a massive (despite its length) orchestral masterpiece, an
epic in sound.  It is subtitled simply as "A Different Realm" and one could
probably read into it various dramatic interpretations: here the epic of 
choice will be the Ramayana, the world's leading epic.  The first movement
is a sort of overture, beginning with low and quiet sounds reminiscent of the
syllable 'om', and gradually building into a massive fanfare of foreboding on
brass and percussion.  The world is in chaos as the Demon King is extending
his power -- yet there is a glimmer of hope expressed by the woodwinds as it
is decided that the great god Vishnu will descend to earth in the guise of
the Prince Rama to defeat the Demon.  The fanfare continues, ending abruptly
to start the story in the next movement.  The second movement is the beginning
of the epic proper: Rama and his wife Sita leave for the wilderness, Rama is
tricked into leaving Sita alone for a moment at which time she is kidnapped
by the demons; the movement ends in quiet, tense realization of this event,
hanging on the major second.  The mysterious and contemplative third movement
is a time of gathering information for Rama and forming alliances; Sita's
whereabouts are discovered and her serenity is played on flutes.  Overall,
though, there is an extreme fatalism about the horrible battle which lies
ahead, and of course Rama knew all that would come to pass before he was even
born.  The fourth movement gradually gains momentum, complete with a march
to battle starting pizzicato on the strings, and the first part ends with a
composed confidence resting on Rama's incredible prowess as the battle proper
is about to begin.  The second part of the fourth movement is the battle,
complete with intense percussive outbursts and brass fanfares -- it ends with
the total defeat of the demons, and a view of the horrible carnage.  This
rather far-flung interpretation might act to undermine the absolute quality
and unity of thought behind Hurqualia, however it is included simply as an
entrance which one might take into this 'different realm' which certainly
admits of an epic interpretation of one kind or another.  Regarding the
instruments which are provided with specific amplification, it is unclear
from the recording exactly what role they play: whether they are meant to
represent characters, or simply to be heard above the din of brass and
percussion.

Scelsi's next great orchestral masterpiece is Aion (1961).  As opposed to
the epic nature of Hurqualia, Aion corresponds even more closely to the
classical idea of the symphony.  It is also in four movements, and totals
slightly over twenty minutes in length.  This work is one of Scelsi's most
profound even among the other masterpieces -- it is also his first major
composition which I heard, one of the most powerful musical experiences in
my life, and initiated this review project in early 1990.  The scoring is
quintessential for Scelsi and consists of: woodwinds by threes excluding
flutes, six horns, three trumpets, four trombones, four tubas, timpani,
six percussionists (whose instruments include a two-hundred liter metal can
rubbed violently across its lateral grooves), harp, viola, four cellos and
four double basses.  The brass is almost always in the foreground, sometimes
giving way to the other winds; the strings are rarely independently audible.
Scelsi's use of percussion is rather complex and sometimes ingenious (the
huge can is found also in Uaxuctum); there is never a glittering or crystal
sound in his percussion section as one might find in other modern symphonic
works which make a heavy use of percussion, rather there is a dark background
muttering which is sometimes violent and othertimes subdued.  Aion is the
name of the personification of eternity in Ancient Greek mythology, and this
work is Scelsi's most effective portrayal of immense lapses of time.  It
is subtitled "Four Episodes of a Day of Brahma," making explicit reference
to Indian mythology (as in the Quattro Illustrazioni for piano; in fact
Aion corresponds to Scelsi's perfection of the symphony in the same way as
that work marks his conclusion in the genre of piano sonata) -- a day of
Brahma is a very long time, and in fact contains an entire cycle of existence
for our world.  It is unclear exactly how much Indian classical music Scelsi
knew, and he never makes explicit reference to it, however as in Hurqualia
there is a rhythmic sophistication about this piece (and really more so here)
that is comparable only to the most complex Indian music -- but of course
extended to a truly polyphonic idiom.  It is also unclear what the 'episodes'
of the subtitle are: the sequence of movements corresponds closely to a
symphonic form.  The first movement is a passacaglia establishing interval
relationships, and complete with intense percussive outbursts; it is the
longest of the four and an extremely intense introduction to Aion, ending with
a mysterious coda initiated by the harp.  The second movement is a sort of
scherzo in ABABA form: the brutal discordant outbursts in quarter tones of 
the B sections are framed by more quiet melodic sections.  The slow third
movement is the most eternal of the set (despite being the shortest).  As
with the Quattro Pezzi, it seems to emerge out of itself in the smallest
harmonic space and moves by microtonal fluctuations through quarter tones
developing into loud climaxes in the brass, ending on the interval of a minor
second.  It provides one with a mystical look at eternity.  The last movement
is a sort of rondo, complete with dramatic cadences leading into an extended
climactic episode in E-major harmony which dissolves away to the opening rondo
theme in the slow quiet ending.  Aion is undoubtedly one of the greatest
orchestral masterpieces of this century, and marks Scelsi's total command of
his new style.

Hymnos (1963) marks the end of Scelsi's great symphonic trilogy: the later
orchestral works call for chorus or a solo instrument (in Anahit).  It also
marks his convincing return to harmony and his consolidation of forces in the
mid-60s.  Hymnos is a single movement work lasting eleven and a half minutes,
and scored for Scelsi's largest group of instruments (including violins for
the first time): two flutes, three oboes, three clarinets, three bassoons,
six horns, four trumpets, four trombones, two tubas, sixteen first violins,
fourteen second violins, ten violas, eight cellos, and six double basses;
these instruments are divided antiphonically into two symmetric groups placed
about: organ, timpani and three percussionists.  The percussion is quite
subdued in this piece, and includes a gong on top of a kettle drum; the organ
plays a major supporting role; and all timbres are indicated with extreme
precision.  Hymnos is a Greek word, and is of course the origin of our word
hymn: and in this respect the meaning of the work is more clear than in the
preceding two.  The origin of 'hymnos' in Greek is from the number six, and
though it may be coincidence, the piece is made up of three distinct sections
multiplied by the two orchestras.  The two outer sections are in Scelsi's
typical massive style, surrounding a quiet and sublime middle section during
which the violins and high winds dominate as never before in Scelsi's mature
orchestral music.  The first section begins slowly on D, gradually building
to a climax which wavers between D minor and Bb major (keys which already had
important associations for Scelsi during his First Period).  This is broken
up by microtonal fluctuations on the violins in the highest register, and
the piece gradually dissolves into the ethereal second section on E with
dissonant tensions of interior chromaticism.  Rumblings in the percussion
gradually inaugurate the third section which returns to the harmonic context
of D minor/Bb major and finally cadences at about the ten minute mark.  This
is followed by a recapitulation and above all by a consolidation of the
previous uninterrupted development which fades away by the eleven minute
mark; the piece then ends in a grand unison on F.  Hymnos is one of Scelsi's
easiest pieces for analysis, and it is also one of his most simply effective.
It has a hymn-like healing quality about it, and one can imagine Scelsi finally
conquering his harmonic demons in this hymn.  Harmony will continue to play
an important role throughout his Third Period -- and this is a harmony which
Scelsi was able to develop out of his own style, rather than having it imposed
upon him.

The symphonic works Hurqualia (1960), Aion (1961) and Hymnos (1963) form
something of an orchestral trilogy, and taken together make a super-symphony
of about fifty minutes duration.  There is hardly a more intense listening
experience than beginning with the dramatic Hurqualia, following with the
absolute mysticism of Aion, and concluding with the extended harmony of
Hymnos.  In addition to these three great works, the early 60s also saw
Scelsi's return to the medium of the string quartet with another succession
of astonishingly varied masterpieces: String Quartet No. 2 (1961), String
Quartet No. 3 (1963) and String Quartet No. 4 (1964).  These three quartets
are among Scelsi's greatest masterpieces -- each makes important contributions
to his oeuvre and the genre as a whole.  Much has been written about these
works, and they are not the focus of this review, however a few comments are
in order for understanding Scelsi's music in the 1960s.  The String Quartet
No. 2 was written in the same year as Aion, and shares much of that work's
rhythmic intensity.  Here again is absolute music of incredible power and
depth which also marks Scelsi's increasing development of string writing,
using his individual metallic mutes which lend a grating sound to many of the
passages, and writing such complex and powerful rhythms.  The quartet is in
five movements, with G as the focus note of the entire work: the first
movement starting on G presents a dramatic introduction, climaxing at the
golden section; the second evolves within the space of the minor second
Bb-A, introducing violent dissonances and sharp buzzing overtones along
with surreal metallic glissandi; the short third movement is centrally
symmetric, focusing on B with occasional harmonic allusions, complete with
percussive attacks and an extended bizarre pizzicato; the fourth movement
returns to G with deep meditative resonance, developing into an impressive
rhythmic conclusion of great power; the fifth movement, the longest of the
five, develops harmonic associations in F minor (as Aion does in E major),
though the G gradually re-asserts itself and ends the work alone.  The String
Quartet No. 3 was written in the same year as Hymnos, and makes use of
major/minor harmony (of course, in Scelsi's inimitable manner) throughout most
of the piece.  Unusually, Scelsi specifies a program for the work (also in
five movements) ending in the movement "liberation, catharsis."  This quartet
is certainly an attempt to help listeners approach his style, and presents
something of a simplification from the previous quartet.  Along with harmony,
the quartet introduces Scelsi's ethereal transfigured writing entirely in
microtones in the high registers -- this style was to play an increasing
role in the music of his Fourth Period.  Finally, the String Quartet No. 4
(1964) in one ten-minute movement is Scelsi's crowning architectural
achievement.  It is based formally on the golden section and symmetric
principles throughout, beginning on C and rising in a powerful infra-chromatic
wave to A.  This work also marks the first employment of string-by-string
tablature notation which Scelsi was to continue to use, and as such
represents an orchestral view of quartet writing: 16 strings as individual
instruments.  Scelsi's fourth quartet is among his most widely regarded works
and presents an astonishing compactness of form with innovative instrumental
writing, leading to a conclusion of great power.

The mid-60s also saw the production of some of Scelsi's greatest chamber
music for small forces.  The third part of the Trilogy for solo cello,
Ygghur (catharsis in Sanskrit) was conceived in 1961, and finally notated
string by string in 1965.  In addition, the duo for viola and cello, Elegia
per Ty (which was the nickname of Scelsi's wife who had left in the 40s and
who he was never to hear of again) which had been conceived in 1958 was
notated string by string in 1966.  Ygghur forms the conclusion of one of
Scelsi's most personal works, the Trilogia "The Three Ages of Man," and the
Elegy is equally personal -- one of Scelsi's most powerful and most melancholy
works.  The Elegy (in three movements) is arguably the greatest composition
for the combination of viola and cello, and an extremely emotional and intense
piece, though very difficult to approach and beginning in a state of utter
anguish.  Perhaps with the final notation of this incredible work, Scelsi had
come to terms with his own loneliness.  Scelsi's greatest composition for
solo violin (and this from a composer who wrote some of history's best solo
violin music) is Xnoybis (1964) which was entirely conceived at this time,
and takes up the string by string writing of the contemporaneous fourth
quartet as well as requiring scordatura.  Xnoybis is a work of great tension,
demanding intense concentration from both the performer and the listener.
It is in three movements and evolves almost entirely within the smallest
microtonal space -- leading to a powerful vision of the interior of sound.
Xnoybis is one of Scelsi's most important and most difficult works, and a
masterpiece of the violin literature.

As well as continuing his series of string quartets and pieces for smaller
string ensembles, Scelsi also wrote five pieces for larger string ensembles
during his Third Period.  Already he had written for string orchestra with
the Introduction and Fugue (1945) of his First Period, and his first string
orchestra work of the Third Period was also drawn from this time: in 1962,
he produced a version of the Quartet No. 1 (1944) for string orchestra.  This
was undoubtedly viewed as a study for the upcoming series of works elaborating
the later quartets for large forces.  The only new work for full string
orchestra is Chukrum -- also written in 1963, a year when Scelsi was
apparently rather busy.  This is followed by Anagamin (1965) for twelve
strings, Ohoi (1966) for sixteen strings, and Natura Renovatur (1967) for
eleven strings.  These three works for string ensembles are drawn in some
degree from the second, third and fourth string quartets (it is unclear to me
to what extent without hearing them), and it is worthwhile to mention Robin
Freeman's remark that calling these works for string orchestra merely the
quartets with a few instruments added is like calling Bach's 6-part ricercar
merely a two-part invention with a few voices added.  At any rate, they do
play some significant role in Scelsi's output, not least of which because he
saw fit to give them abstract titles and even subtitles, but also because the
tonal elaboration involved in increasing the number of instruments undoubtedly
contributed to the more full sound of the late works of his Third Period.  It
is suspected that the name Anagamin is pulled from near eastern mythology
along with Xnoybis and Anahit (which certainly is), though this has not been
established; the piece also has a very interesting sub-title: the one who is
faced with a choice between turning back and refusing to.  Hence this work
seems to mark some sort of definitive conclusion for Scelsi, in 1965 -- the
year after String Quartet No. 4 and Xnoybis.  Ohoi (which may simply be a
variant of 'ahoy') is subtitled 'the creative principles,' again indicating
that the piece had some significance for Scelsi.  Finally, Natura Renovatur
(Renovative Nature) is the re-working of fourth quartet -- and it above all
possesses such a tremendous potential for expansion and elaboration that one
can imagine Scelsi renovating this work many times.  These three pieces for
string ensembles are among Scelsi's most important unrecorded later works
(along with the cryptic Tkrdg (1968) for accompanied choir) and are important
for understanding his orchestral development from Hymnos to Konx-Om-Pax.

[Arbitrary length limits force a break.  The article will be concluded in a
subsequent posting.  --tm]

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