salonen on sibelius

For a Finn, I discovered Sibelius relatively late in life. In my early twenties, like many other misinformed supporters of the post-serial, post-Boulezian dogma, I subscribed to the Adorno critique against Sibelius. The post-war modernists saw in his music everything they hated: essentially tonal, diatonic harmonic structures, symphonic formal thinking, “unclear” way of orchestrating and - even worse – a nationalistic message embedded in this on the surface conservative music. The fact that Finland allied itself with Hitler after the Winter War, and Sibelius became one of the few living composers accepted by the Nazis, did not help.

I chose to go to Italy to study composition with Castiglioni when I was twenty-two. I wanted to get out of Finland, as far as I could, to a profoundly different culture where Sibelius would not permeate every molecule of the musical oxygen I breathed. I admired the Italian intellectual virtuosity, the ease and confidence of a Berio or of a Sanguineti or of an Eco in navigating the incredibly rich cultural heritage in the state of a permanent semiotic ecstasy.

I settled happily in the Milanese suburb of Magenta, known for its match factory and nothing else (I don’t think the color comes from there), went to my lessons with Castiglioni every week, and generally enjoyed my freedom. One day I discovered an antiquarian bookshop not far from La Scala, walked in and saw a battered copy of Sibelius Seventh in a pile. It felt – embarrassingly – like seeing an old friend after many years, and I bought the score for a ridiculously small amount of liras, and carried to my house in Magenta.

I started reading the score on a bus on the way back, and was immediately stricken by how different this music looks on the page (as opposed to all other music): you cannot separate melody from harmony, form from color, themes from texture. Everything belongs together, but not the way parts of a watch belong together. Even visually, this music conveys an idea of an organism, not a machine. I remembered Sibelius once having described himself as a gardener. Suddenly it was very clear to me that this music had dimensions I had not seen at all before. I had to admit that I had only seen the surface and failed to recognize the true originality and power of Sibelius.

When I think back to that moment now, more than a quarter-century later, I know that it was the beginning of many processes. One of them was my becoming free from the rigid post-darmstadtian way of thinking (it was a long and painful road, but moving to Southern California helped). Another process was a gradual deepening of my understanding and admiration of Sibelius’ music – a life-long journey as most of these things are.

Now, as I’m rapidly approaching my fiftieth birthday, I’m conducting a Sibelius cycle for the first time ever! I decided to wait until I have had enough time to study, and reflect. The question in my mind has never been “do you have something to say about this music?” (That question, although often asked, in my opinion over-emphasizes the role of the interpreter. We conductors are only waiters, the composer is the chef. The waiter presents the menu and carries the food in. A completely honorable end necessary profession, that is.)

The task is to let the magnificent musical processes in these symphonies run their course undisturbed, in the same manner this music has been composed: like living organisms.

In my mind, the ideal Sibelius performance does not seem like an interpretation or even a point of view. It should feel like the ice breaking in a big Northern river in April: intense, beautiful, terrifying and ultimately inevitable. I’m not sure if I or anybody else is quite capable of achieving this. We can but try.

Esa-Pekka Salonen, January 2007