Strauss never again frightened the horses. He had tested bourgeois tolerance and decided it was bad for business. The First World War left him unharmed in fame or fortune. A five-year spell at the head of the Vienna Opera cemented his esteem.
Ever productive, he was entering his Grand Old Man phase when the Nazis came to power in Germany. Strauss agreed to become head of the Reichsmusikkammer, the body that decided who was fit, on racial and political grounds, to be a professional musician. No moral qualm troubled Strauss's impassive countenance. He wrote an Olympic hymn for Hitler's 1936 Games.
What got him into trouble was an intercepted letter of mild dissent to his latest librettist, the exiled Stefan Zweig, along with a dawning realisation that his daughter-in-law and grandsons, being Jewish, could be snuffed out on the order of a gauleiter. Strauss lived out the Second World War in a state of mounting anxiety, protected by the odious Baldur von Schirach, returning in his music to the late-Romantic language he had once shared with Mahler.
The Four Last Songs — written in 1948 during involuntary displacement in Europe's most luxurious hotel, the Montreux Palace — amount to an effulgent thanksgiving to Pauline for protecting him from most of life's unpleasantness. The texts he chose are valedictions. Death, he would say on his deathbed, "is just as I composed it in ‘Death and Transfiguration'". Strauss was a man who gave much and learned little. If he had emotional or intellectual depths they remain, after many biographies, well hidden.
His closest parallel in music is not Mahler but Edward Elgar who, like Strauss, grew up in a provincial home full of musical instruments, who craved imperial honours and conventional pleasures, never happier than on a day at the races, never gloomier than when deprived of a meal. The two composers enjoyed a mutual appreciation, intuitive and unforced. Each conducted the other's tone poems, each appreciated the other's phlegmatic approach to creation and life. Each made a lasting contribution to the canon of Western music without wishing to challenge its parameters. Each worked well within his means.
If this sounds uninteresting, so be it. From Strauss's conventionality came moments of inimitable sublimity. The closing trio of Der Rosenkavalier may be the most perfect piece of vocal writing since Così fan tutte. "The Palestinian night" in Elektra is like nothing imagined before by a German composer. The late oboe concerto and the Four Last Songs know more of humanity than humanity perhaps knows of itself. If that's uninteresting, I'll take uninteresting. Strauss is 150 years old and still going strong.


















6:03 PM
5:03 PM
5:03 PM
2:03 PM
10:03 AM
5:03 AM