The Birds

Respighi was not one of the most radical composers of his day. He never advanced beyond early Stavinsky and Richard Strauss in harmonic terms and wrote nothing more progressive in that sense than his three popular and brilliantly evocative orchestral works inspired, respectively, by the fountains, pines, and festivals of Rome. He was, on the other hand, a pioneer in enriching the music of the present by reviving aspects of the baroque and classical past. He was well ahead of Stravinsky in this respect, even if neo-classicism was never for him the major stylistic issue it was for his Russian contemporary. He could take it - as he regularly did between the Concerto all’antica in 1908 and the Concerto à cinque in 1933 - or he could leave it, as he usually did when writing his major orchestral works and operas.

The suite for small orchestra, The Birds, was written in 1927 at the same time as he was working on the last of the Roman tone poems. Stravinsky, who was involved in serious classical work on Apollo at about the same time and in no mood to produce another Firebird, would have found that division of interest difficult to understand. Even so, The Birds is one of the most delightful and most stylish examples of a modern composer’s reworking of baroque material. Based on eighteenth and seventeenth century harpsichord pieces inspired by bird song, it presents four light-hearted ornithological studies within the sturdy framework of a Bourrée by the Italian baroque composer Bernado Pasquini (1627-1710).

The shape of the suite as a whole is anticipated in the Prelude, where Pasquini’s Bourrée is interrupted first by a hen on violins and oboe, then in quick succession by a cuckoo on flute and bassoon, a nightingale on flute, and a dove on two clarinets. The cuckoo calls return in a little Allegretto dance episode interpolated before the recall of the Bourrée.

The Dove, based on a piece written by Jacques de Gallot in Paris in about 1670, is a particularly subtle example of Respighi’s mastery of orchestration: nothing sensational to begin with, just a melodic line perfectly placed on the oboe and accompanied by F sharp minor harmonies on the harp, a modest counterpoint on the flute, and scarcely perceptible hints of birdsong high on muted violins. The middle section introduces the characteristic murmuring of doves on violins and violas and a reprise of the first section recalls the melody in different instrumental colours against the still murmuring background. In the magical final bars the dove takes to the air in weightless figurations on flute and harp.

The Hen, based on a famous piece by Rameau (1683-1768), is a strident contrast, the scoring remarkable this time for its brilliant wit, particularly in the use of bassoons and muted trumpets.

The Nightingale opens with an affectionate parody of Wagner’s Forest Murmurs, which actually persists through the whole movement. Against that background the flute introduces a melody (derived from an anonymous 17th century English harpsichordist) which is offset by delicately drawn counterpoints on other woodwind instruments and twittering bird song on the piccolo. At the end the nightingale flies away on violin harmonics and a rising scale on the celesta.

The Cuckoo flies in on the same instruments. Based on a Toccata by Pasquini, it incorporates a short chorale-like middle section before returning to the outdoors and by stealthy degrees - on celesta and pianissimo woodwind - to a recall of the opening Bourrée.

Outstandingly successful among Italian composers in his lifetime but edged further and further out of intellectual approval with every decade that has passed since his death, Respighi is only just coming back into favour. As far as concert audiences are concerned, his brilliantly evocative orchestral works inspired by the fountains, pines, and festivals of Rome - most effectively promoted at one time by no less a conductor than Arturo Toscanini - have never lost their popular appeal. But for historians of modern music, particularly those who associate his work with the political sympathies he (allegedly) entertained in the 1930s, Respighi does not represent progress.

It is true that Respighi was not the most audacious composer of his day. But he was no more reactionary in music than he was fascist in politics. His education in Bologna, under the progressive direction of his composition teacher Giuseppe Martucci at the Liceo Musicale, produced a composer adventurous enough to go on to take lessons from Rimsky-Korsakov in St Petersburg and ambitious enough to attend the Hochschule in Berlin at at time when Max Bruch taught composition and Richard Strauss conducted at the court opera.

Moreover, while he sought to emulate no one more progressive than Strauss or Ravel or the early Stravinsky, he was one of the first composers to look back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries as a fresh source of inspiration. In fact - encouraged by the musicologist Luigi Torchí, librarian at the Liceo Musicale in Bologna - Respighi made arrangements of violin music by Veracini and Tartini (among others of their period) as early as in 1906; in 1908, nearly ten years before Prokofiev completed his Classical Symphony, he wrote what was probably the first of all neo-classical concertos, the Concerto all’antica for violin and orchestra.

For Respighi, however, neo-classicism was not the major stylistic issue it was for Stravinsky. He could take it (as he regularly did between the Concerto all’antica in 1908 and the Concerto à cinque in 1933) or he could leave it (as he usually did when writing his major orchestral works and operas). The suite for small orchestra, The Birds, was written in 1927 at the same time as he was working on the last of his large-scale symphonic poems Feste romane. Stravinsky, who was involved in serious classical work on Apollo at about the same time and in no mood to produce another Firebird, would have found that division of interest difficult to understand.

Even so, The Birds is one of the most delightful and most stylish examples of a modern composer’s reworking of baroque material. Based on eighteenth and seventeenth century harpsichord pieces inspired by bird song, it presents four light-hearted ornithological studies within the sturdy framework of a Bourrée by the Italian baroque composer Bernado Pasquini (1627-1710). Actually, the shape of the suite as a whole is anticipated in the Prelude, where Pasquini’s Bourrée is interrupted first by a hen on violins and oboe, then in quick succession a cuckoo on flute and bassoon, a nightingale on flute, and a dove on two clarinets. The cuckoo calls return in a little Allegretto dance episode interpolated before the recall of the Bourrée.

The Dove, based on a piece written by Jacques de Gallot in Paris in about 1670, is a particularly subtle example of Respighi’s mastery of orchestration: nothing sensational to begin with, just a melodic line perfectly placed on the oboe and accompanied by F sharp minor harmonies on the harp, a modest counterpoint on the flute, and scarcely perceptible hints of birdsong high on muted violins; the middle section introduces the characteristic murmuring of doves on violins and violas; a reprise of the first section recalls the melody in different instrumental colours against the still murmuring background; and in the final bars the dove takes to the air in weightless figurations on flute and harp.

The Hen, based on a famous piece by Rameau (1683-1768), is a strident contrast, the scoring remarkable this time for its brilliant wit, particularly in the use of bassoons and muted trumpets.

The Nightingale opens with an affectionate parody of Wagner’s Forest Murmurs, which actually persists through the whole movement. Against that background the flute introduces a melody (derived from an anonymous 17th century English harpsichordist) which is offset by delicately drawn counterpoints on other woodwind instruments and twittering bird song on the piccolo. At the end the nightingale flies away on violin harmonics and a rising scale on the celesta.

The Cuckoo flies in on the same instruments. Based on a Toccata by Pasquini, it incorporates a short chorale-like middle section before returning to the outdoors and by stealthy degrees - on celesta and pianissimo woodwind - to a recall of the opening Bourrée.