The music is the man
The Swedish composer Anders Eliasson passed away last spring after a protracted illness. It was not only his native country that lost a great composer – but the whole musical world.
During our many and lengthy conversations when I was working on my biography of Eliasson and his music, he often stressed that he could not have survived without music; that he would hardly have reached adulthood. These are words that might hint at sentimentality and a kind of romanticizing of the role of the artist, but in his personality there was absolutely nothing of the sort. It was simply a matter of how he experienced it, literally. Music was his life’s mission – something which perhaps contradicted another opinion that he has expressed: “I should never have been born”. One can of course feel that Anders Eliasson is entirely out of keeping with the times in his sensitiveness, candour and seriousness. I believe, too, that this is how he experienced it himself, as if he were a stranger among us. But in his musical creativity he at the same time attained a refinement which resulted in his musical “language” – formulated in freely floating harmony with two ninetone scales at bottom – serving as a kind of spiritual abode for him, in sharp contrast to the everyday toil. “I want to flee into music”, he said.
The music angel Still, he claimed he was only music’s companion. His subservience in respect to the essence of music – “the music angel” as he called it – is perhaps hard to comprehend when it comes to such an obvious master as Anders Eliasson. “Music must be allowed to generate itself ”, he declared. It was as though he needed to have that perspective. He looked upon music as a friend and confidante, but his respect for it seemed nevertheless to prevent him from, as
Photo: private
Photo: Bo-Aje Melin/SVT/TT
“I want to flee into music”
Anders Eliasson 1947-2013
Photo: Tony Lundman
There are actually very few composers who have been able to exhibit the same kind of intense proximity to musical creation as Eliasson. When the often restless, expressive music comes surging up through the auditorium, Eliasson himself is present in every passage, his breath is audible in every phrase. The music is the man. Eliasson’s music totally lacks the uneasy trendiness that the musical world is otherwise inundated with today – even the world of art music. In Eliasson’s compositions there are no empty gestures, no stolen phrases, no imitating dialects, there is no posturing. Neither did he himself put on airs, but throughout his 66-year-long life he retained a sort of underdog position – the result of a painful childhood and a feeling of alienation, outside cliques and prevailing compositional ideas. It seems only logical that he, in a magnum opus such as the oratorio Dante Anarca, let the words “debellare superbos” (overthrow the haughty), grow to a crushing force in a grinding climax.
a simple human being, placing himself entirely on level with the wonders of music, that he even so was unquestionably capable of attaining. He spoke instead of being responsive and noting down the music, with paper and pen, the moment that it emerged in his inner being. It is indeed fantastic how, for example, his very last work – the string trio Ahnungen, which he composed only with great difficulty during his last year – exhibits the very same density and gushing power of expression that we find in his other music – despite the many and long interruptions caused by the cancer. Toward the end he was reconciled with the idea of dying. To be sure, he did want to compose the 5th and 6th symphonies, which were intended to form a kind of triptych together with Symphony No. 4. The quiet epilogue of this work, with a desolate, cantabile solo for flugelhorn, was the door that
Music tips Ostacoli (1987) was written for the Ostrobothnian Chamber Orchestra. This is deeply moving, in places violently intense and nervy music for string orchestra. The work was the beginning of very fruitful relations with the Finnish musical scene. Symphonies No. 1 (1986), No. 3 (1989) and No. 4 (2005) are all magnificent examples of works in the genre. From the tense and transparent atmospheres in Symphony No. 1 to the late Eliasson’s Symphony No. 4, there is a development towards a softer flow and simplicity. Symphony No. 3 is a “sinfonia concertante” for obbligato alto saxophone; there is also a version for soprano saxophone (2010) which has not yet been performed.
slowly opened up to the next symphonic room. But death did not scare him. “It will be exciting to die”, he said more than once, often with an amusing smile and his characteristically peering eyes. Of course, one might think that he said this to mitigate the anxiety of those closest to him, but I do believe that he honestly retained his curiosity to his very last breath, on that Monday evening the 20th of May this year. T o n y Lu n d m a n Author of the biography of Anders Eliasson (Bokförlaget Atlantis, 2012) and editor at the Stockholm Concert Hall
Footnote: Eliasson’s very last work, the string trio Ahnungen, will be premiered by ZilliacusPerssonRaitinen on 10 February 2014 at the Stockholm Concert Hall.
Quartetto d’archi (1991) is one of Eliasson’s many exquisite chamber works with a broad spectrum of expression, ranging from the forceful and belligerent to the sensual and cantabile. Dante Anarca (1998) is a mighty oratorio for soprano, contralto, tenor, baritone, mixed choir and orchestra, set to a text in Italian by Giacomo Oreglia. It is Eliasson’s magnum opus – an unmistakable masterpiece that is filled to the brim with passion, distinctive character and beauty. (2005) is a beautiful Concerto for Violin, Piano and Orchestra example from the many solo concertos Eliasson wrote. This double concerto, with an unusual combination of soloists, is music full of dancing joie de vivre with supremely inspired orchestral elegance and balance.
H i ghl i ghts
3/2013