Strauss: Metamorphosen

Metamorphosen for String Orchestra (1945) Richard Strauss
(1864-1949)

In a long professional life which stretched for the world of Wagner and Brahms to the modern age of Stravinsky and Schoenberg, Richard Strauss lived through a dizzying succession of emperors, kings and prime ministers. The teen-ager who began his career during the fairy-tale age of Ludwig II of Bavaria, won world-wide fame during the jingoistic reign of Kaiser Wilhelm II and the turbulent “Weimar Republic” in the 1920s---and as a Grand Old Man briefly occupied an honoured position as a cultural figurehead in Nazi Germany. His confident view that all politicians (whether emperors or Reich Chancellors) were fundamentally the same---corrupt, stupid and contemptible---was shattered when the authorities intercepted his letters, bringing his private views to the attention of Joseph Goebbels and Hitler himself. Later, Strauss was called in for a tongue-lashing by Dr. Goebbels himself, who warned that despite his fame as Germany’s most celebrated musician, he too could be disposed of, if necessary. Strauss was in his late seventies, and not even asked to take a seat for this confrontation. Shaking with fright and ashen-faced the old man retreated to his home in the Bavarian Alps, where he lived out the war years in terror of the possible threat to him and his family---Strauss’ daughter-in-law was Jewish. No harm came. As the war wound down Richard Strauss was forced to confront the complete transformation and destruction of the world he had known. War devastation was one thing, the perversion and damage to the great traditions of German culture were another. Strauss may never have fully grasped the degradation into which his nation had been plunged, and to which he had contributed, however naively. To this day there are many who cannot forgive the fact that he remained in Germany, and seemed to “play along” with the regime. The truth is that he was an elderly man, brought up in an earlier age, and, like many Germans, unwilling to face reality until it was too late.

Not long after his final opera, Capriccio was performed, not long before his 80^th birthday, Strauss learned of the terrible destruction of Dresden (where most of his operas had received their premieres), then the bombing of Munich and Vienna---in which the great opera houses of both cities were destroyed. Heartbroken, Strauss tinkered with a plan for a septet for strings, which at first bore the title “Mourning for Munich.” When Paul Sacher, the conductor of a chamber orchestral in Basel, Switzerland, commissioned a new work from Strauss, the septet became a Metamorphosen [Metamorphoses], “Study for 23 Solo Strings,” which was composed March-April, 1945 at the composer’s home in Garmisch, in the Bavarian Alps, during the terrible final weeks of the war. Sacher, an outstanding champion and patron of the work of many important 20^th century composers (including Stravinsky, Bartok, Britten and many others), conducted the premiere of Metamorphosen on 25^th January, 1946.

The title is commonly taken to refer to the continual process of development in is such a striking aspect of the work’s musical structure. In fact, the “metamorphosis” heakens back to two poetic works written by Goethe in his old age---to quiet his deep anxiety in the final stages of the war, Strauss had re-read the complete writings of Goethe, seeking to find consolation in the greatest of all German poets.

For today’s performance Russell Hoffmann has chosen to use a septet version of Metamorphosen, in which the elements of the 23-instrument version are preserved, re-distributed between seven instrumental voices, permiting performance by a smaller string orchestra. This version was reconstituted by Rudolf Leopold from the original sketches which were re-discovered in Switzerland in 1990.

Metamorphosen is laid out as a continually unfolding, seamless contrapuntal tapestry. The textures shift smoothly from lower to higher instrumental colours, from transparent simplicity to some of the richest string sonorities ever conceived, in a style which is best described as “late Romanticism,” despite the date of composition—some might prefer the term “post-Romantic.” There are four distinct major thematic elements introduced straightaway: 1.) a solemn “preludial” opening with dark, arresting harmonies in the lower strings (initially in E Minor, although the home key soon is established as C Minor); 2.) perhaps the most important melodic element: four repeated notes linked with to a descending dotted pattern, introduced by the violas, destined to take on profound meaning as the composition progresses.

3.) a warmer, gently swelling lyrical theme led in by the violins, soon taking on a more anxious tone.

4.) a new theme, also ushered in with four repeated notes, first in the cellos, then taken up by the violins.

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Throughout the ongoing flow of musical ideas the “preludial” first theme recurs, the other themes endlessly extended and interwoven. The work had opens in E Minor, which immediately shifted into C Minor, which becomes the central tonality. Now, with a change to G Major, a new, more relaxed 5^th theme is added, notable for its more supple, embellished character. The music rises in intensity, then sinks back to return to the darker character of the first section, with the four-note figure becoming more prominent. Then a refreshing change as the music glides into the warm key of E Major. But once again it becomes more agitated, restlessly pressing onward, reaching the anxious key of C-sharp minor, and an extended form of the third theme. Soon we find ourselves back in the home key of C Minor, with the four-note figure taking on even a more urgent role, the tempo quickening, the atmosphere becoming ever more emotionally heated. The fourth theme comes to the fore, joined by the “warmer” third theme in turn, while the music takes on an ever more insistent momentum, rising to a dramatic climax. This crests in a reappearance of the “new” 5^th theme, now in C Major. This forges ahead ato a huge climax, with almost frantic repetitions of the four-note figure. This crashes down to a return of the preludial theme, fortissimo, now in C Minor. Calming down, the second theme, with the figure of four notes linked to the descending dotted pattern now claims our attention. The third theme re-appears, and after another dramatic pause, the preludial music swings around to the four note figure, now piled up in canonic entries, hammering one on top of another, pushing the music ahead in grinding, dissonant single-mindedness. The dotted descending theme now is heard by itself (without the 4 repeated notes), and all of the thematic elements are combined in a mood of almost desperate sorrow and resignation. The preludial theme leads in the final moments of the work, the melodic strands winding downward to find a ultimate anchor in C Minor. The four-note figure is heard a last time, while the cellos and basses intone the dotted-rhythm theme in its final transfiguration: a direct quotation of the Funeral March theme from Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony. Under those final bars the heartbroken composer wrote the words IN MEMORIAM!

With Metamorphosen Strauss may well have composed a requiem for a great civilisation, and for an unbroken music tradition extending from Beethoven (and the world of Napoleon) to his own last works (and the world of Hitler.) For many listeners, this work may also be heard as a great composer’s grieving expression of his own moral failure, and search for spiritual resolution.

For a Newtown Chamber Orchestra Concert 24 X 2000