Sibelius did not achieve a symphony until he was 34. When he did, it was tepid, Tchaikovsky-lite, regressive. However, his second symphony won him world fame. Written in 1902 under a bout of exceptional Russian oppression, it was an immediate audience favourite, bringing famous maestros clamouring to the composer's door. Sibelius followed up with a third symphony of icy clarity, a rejection of Bruckner's late romanticism and a statement of near-autistic self-correction.
Nielsen, working nights in Copenhagen as an opera conductor to feed his family, struggled to forge a symphonic lineage. Of his six symphonies, the third, "Sinfonia Espansiva", mirrors Mahler's ecological preoccupations while the fourth, "The Inextinguishable", evokes a world at war. A comic opera, Maskarade, got a laugh out of sombre Danes but his symphonies could not match Sibelius's feel for the spirit of the times. Nielsen lost his way in the end; his sixth symphony is stubbornly obtuse.
He died of heart disease in 1931, aged 66, and his orchestral works did not reach an international audience until Leonard Bernstein performed them with the New York Philharmonic in the 1960s — as an antidote to Sibelian predominance.
Sibelius marked Finland's independence from the Russians with a final version of the problematic fifth symphony; he was forced out of his home for much of the ensuing civil war. Two further symphonies bear hallmarks of truculent individualism before, in 1926, he fell silent, musically, for the rest of his life. In 1939 he went on radio to beg the world to save Finland from Russian annihilation. Long after his death in 1957, his face remained on the currency, disappearing only when Finland joined the euro in 2002.
The 2015 anniversary year will not change our minds about Sibelius. The symphonies, tone poems and the violin concerto are staple fare, while the "Valse triste" is decadence incarnate. Discovered fragments of an eighth symphony confirm only that no completed symphony exists to be discovered. Sibelius is a known commodity.
Nielsen, on the other hand, is not. In the hands of the right conductor and orchestra, the middle symphonies can be overwhelming; the flute and clarinet concertos are as testing for the performer as they are pleasing for the listener. The wind quintet is unique, unmatched for its twilight colours and consoling themes.
How does one approach the elusive Dane? Think of him as a Nordic Janáček, an artist who elevates the elements of daily life to something approaching nobility. There is a determined rough edge in Nielsen's textures that has been smoothed out in Sibelius, a feeling for existential torment that is seldom glimpsed in the Finn.
The age of Sibelius is over. No composer in the 21st century looks to him as a role model, least of all in Finland where two generations of creative musicians have asserted a fertile, polytonal independence. Sibelius is dead. Nielsen, however, awaits exploration. Thanks to him, the coming year's menu looks more than a little tempting.
Nielsen, working nights in Copenhagen as an opera conductor to feed his family, struggled to forge a symphonic lineage. Of his six symphonies, the third, "Sinfonia Espansiva", mirrors Mahler's ecological preoccupations while the fourth, "The Inextinguishable", evokes a world at war. A comic opera, Maskarade, got a laugh out of sombre Danes but his symphonies could not match Sibelius's feel for the spirit of the times. Nielsen lost his way in the end; his sixth symphony is stubbornly obtuse.
He died of heart disease in 1931, aged 66, and his orchestral works did not reach an international audience until Leonard Bernstein performed them with the New York Philharmonic in the 1960s — as an antidote to Sibelian predominance.
Sibelius marked Finland's independence from the Russians with a final version of the problematic fifth symphony; he was forced out of his home for much of the ensuing civil war. Two further symphonies bear hallmarks of truculent individualism before, in 1926, he fell silent, musically, for the rest of his life. In 1939 he went on radio to beg the world to save Finland from Russian annihilation. Long after his death in 1957, his face remained on the currency, disappearing only when Finland joined the euro in 2002.
The 2015 anniversary year will not change our minds about Sibelius. The symphonies, tone poems and the violin concerto are staple fare, while the "Valse triste" is decadence incarnate. Discovered fragments of an eighth symphony confirm only that no completed symphony exists to be discovered. Sibelius is a known commodity.
Nielsen, on the other hand, is not. In the hands of the right conductor and orchestra, the middle symphonies can be overwhelming; the flute and clarinet concertos are as testing for the performer as they are pleasing for the listener. The wind quintet is unique, unmatched for its twilight colours and consoling themes.
How does one approach the elusive Dane? Think of him as a Nordic Janáček, an artist who elevates the elements of daily life to something approaching nobility. There is a determined rough edge in Nielsen's textures that has been smoothed out in Sibelius, a feeling for existential torment that is seldom glimpsed in the Finn.
The age of Sibelius is over. No composer in the 21st century looks to him as a role model, least of all in Finland where two generations of creative musicians have asserted a fertile, polytonal independence. Sibelius is dead. Nielsen, however, awaits exploration. Thanks to him, the coming year's menu looks more than a little tempting.


















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