John Roos’ Blog

While I was a high school student, my friend and piano teacher, Jane Brough, called me one night. She had just returned from the Annapolis library with some music that, she knew, I just had to hear. It was the 4th Symphony by Alan Hovhaness, a man I’d never heard of. Jane sensed that, as a trombonist, I would love this music, which was written for wind ensemble, and featured a rich assortment of low brass. Jane was right. I fell in love with this music. And I’ve been in love with the music of Hovhaness ever since.

Of this music, Hovhaness would write, “I admire the giant melody of the Himalayan Mountains, seventh-century Armenian religious music, classical music of South India, orchestra music of Tang Dynasty China around 700 A.D., opera-oratorios of Handel.” Here was music that was Eastern yet Western. Tonal and even melodic yet tinged with the atonal, all rich with deep harmonies. It was music with bells and xylophone, brass and woodwind choirs. While the melodies seemed simple, the foundation was in rich sonorities, clear from the opening measures, which featured a trombone choir.

There were so many wonderful moments in this symphony. I took particular notice in the third movement as the upper trombones engaged in glissando exchanges while lower trombones punctuate a riveting tune that eventually merges with the glissandoing trombones. In that same movement, I loved the moments when the horns play a melodious chord, while the harp strums a dissonant relative. What a powerful juxtaposition! What a marvelous ear!

In his own way, Hovhaness was a daring revolutionary, blending East and West. Infusing tonal melodies with exotic colors, introducing the modern into the ancient world that he loved so dearly.

That first recording of his fourth symphony featured the Eastman Wind Ensemble under A. Clyde Roller. It still sounds fantastic (Mercury CD 434 320-2). It has the excitement of discovery, much like my own discovery of Hovhaness. Keith Brion has led another fine recording of this symphony, directing the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama Wind Orchestra (Naxos 8.559207). I still prefer Roller and his Eastman band.

While the fourth symphony was my introduction to Hovhaness, perhaps the music that most put Hovhaness on the music map was his second symphony, Mysterious Mountain. Written for a commission by Leopold Stokowski, this music has been recorded several times, most famously by Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony (RCA 09026-61957-2). This is recording that has been in the catalog for more than 50 years, and still sounds great.

While I was a freshman in college, a neighbor in the dorm came into my room as I listened to this recording music. He had heard the sounds and was irresistibly drawn. To the triumphant trumpet solos, played magnificently by Adolph Herseth. To the tender string melodies. These were troubled times. The years of the Vietnam war. The civil rights movements. The assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. Race riots. Student protests.

In those turbulent years, Hovhaness sounded like the balm we all needed. It certainly was a soothing retreat for me in my college years. As it was to my dorm neighbor who introduced Hovhaness in the middle of his studies.

While Reiner’s recording still sets the standard, Mysterious Mountain has been recorded several other times. In his discography of Hovhaness recordings, (http://web.uvic.ca/~kunze/hovdiscog.pdf), Eric Kunze identifies twenty-three recordings. After Reiner, perhaps the most notable interpreter has been Gerard Schwarz, who recorded Mysterious Mountain twice, first with his Seattle Symphony for Delos and then with the Liverpool Philharmonic for Telarc. Both are wonderful recordings. And both are recommended.

A prolific composer, Hovhaness wrote in nearly every idiom, for every size ensembles, from solo works for piano to chamber music, from choral works to symphony, of which he wrote 70. The level of inspiration and quality is not always consistently high, and some, clearly, are better than others. One of the criticisms of Hovhaness is that his music can be long and winding. Expansive without decisive development. That is true. His music isn’t every day material but an occasional respite from a weary world.

Among the more important recordings of his work, special praise goes to the recording Rudolf Werthen and I Fiamminghi made for Telarc. Beautifully played and perfectly recorded, this features Hovhaness’ 6th symphony, Celestial Gate, and the Hovhaness composition that has been most recorded, his Prayer of Saint Gregory, for solo trumpet and orchestra.

Gerard Schwarz has recorded several other Hovhaness works. But of particular note is his recording of Symphony No.50 (“Mount St. Helens”) and Symphony No.22 (“City of Light”) in which he leads his Seattle Symphony. His Delos of Mysterious Mountain also includes a recording of one of Hovhaness’ novelty piece, And God Created Great Whales, featuring actual whale songs. Not great music but an interesting piece to hear on occasion.

“Whales” actually had been commissioned in the 1960s by Andre Kastalenitz, whose pioneering recording has not been available for years. That recording also featured another of what might be considered a novelty piece, Hovhaness’ Rubaiyat, for speaker, accordion & orchestra, Op. 308, based on the famous poem by Omar Khayyam. Unfortunately, the original recording hasn’t been available in many years. This featured Douglas Fairbanks as the narrator. This is far superior to the newer recording with Michael York as the narrator. Fairbanks sounds so authentic whereas York sounds like an actor, trying to sound authentic.

Explaining his philosophy as a musician, Hovhaness once said, “My purpose is to create music, not for snobs, but for all people – music which is beautiful and healing, to attempt what old Chinese painters called ‘spirit response’ in melody and sound.” While his music received several recordings, yet he never seemed accepted by the elites. I always sensed that they looked down at his musical esthetic. That he fell short of the standards they expected in great composers.

But Hovhaness kept writing music that often was deceptively simple, with a focus on beauty. And he attracted a cult of followers, who appreciated his style, his ear, his commitment. The critics who rejected his music as simplistic, might have been the target for this comment: “Simplicity is difficult, not easy. Beauty is simple.”

It is all too appropriate that Hovhaness died in 2000, at the age of 89. For he was one of the outstanding composers of the 20th century. A man seemingly out of step with the complexities of that long, confusing century. Yet a man who seemed to speak to so many of its troubled souls. Who breathed a sense of eternal values in times dedicated to change. Who relentlessly pursued beauty at a time when so many treasured violence. Who celebrated simplicity when so many worshipped at the altar of complexity and chaos. Who constantly strived to find beauty. In the process, he lived a rich life and enriched the lives of countless listeners.

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