Joseph Marx – Eine Herbstsymphonie (Autumn Symphony)

Resurrection of a Forgotten Masterwork

An analysis by Berkant Haydin (October 2006). English translation by Bradford Robinson.

How could such a major composer fall into oblivion? Riccardo Chailly

According to the musicologist Peter Blaha, head of dramaturgy at the Vienna State Opera, a hearing of the Herbstsymphonie (Autumn Symphony) inevitably kindles memories of Kant's Category of the Sublime, which the philosopher applied to those things that appear to us as great and impressive, but initially beyond our ability to comprehend. With its enormous complexity, massive sound, and mystical backdrop, the Herbstsymphonie overpowers the listener to such a degree that repeated hearings are required before it can gradually become intelligible and enjoyable in all its beauty. With the rediscovery of this extraordinary composer - an event as unavoidable historically as it was absolutely essential from a musical standpoint - the growing interest in his music, and especially in the Herbstsymphonie, will surely mark a major step in the attainment of an important goal: the international renaissance of Joseph Marx as a leading symphonist.

With the Herbstsymphonie, Joseph Marx was ahead of the times. Riccardo Chailly

In the summer of 2006 the conductor Riccardo Chailly closely perused the gigantic 280-page score of the Herbstsymphonie. Speaking to the present author, he expressed his great enthusiasm for the piece, claiming that its unconventional harmonic writing, modern timbre, and intricately dovetailed structure offer clear proof that, as a tonal composer, Marx was far in advance of his time. Many specialists have come to this same conclusion after scrutinizing Marx's oeuvre. To choose only one example, Friedrich Cerha, one of Austria's leading contemporary composers, maintains that Marx, notwithstanding his aversion to the avant-garde, was a recognized authority as an ingenious musicologist and an innovative composer. Cerha recalled how in the mid-1950s, as a callow thirty-year-old avantgardist, he spent hours pouring over the score of the Herbstsymphonie in complete amazement, stunned by the work's extraordinary complexity. It would therefore seem that the moment for a rediscovery and reassessment of the composer Joseph Marx has arrived.

Joseph Marx, the leading force of Austrian music. Wilhelm Furtwängler, in 1952

The ten-year period beginning in 1909 witnessed the international triumph of Joseph Marx's lieder, and the composer came to be seen as a specialist in the genre. None the less, he managed in the interim to produce a rich and varied body of sonorous choral works (including Herbstchor an Pan and Ein Neujahrshymnus), piano pieces, chamber music, and even a forty-minute piano concerto, all of which were performed to great acclaim by leading soloists and ensembles. It was not until his Herbstsymphonie that the "master of euphony" succeeded in divesting himself of his reputation as a lied composer and entered music history with a piece that in many respects represents a superlative work of art. Yet not even Marx could have foreseen, when he put the final touches to the score of his Herbstsymphonie in Grambach near Graz on 21 November 1921, what a polarizing effect it would have on Vienna's musical life at the time. And what would he have thought if he had foreseen that the Herbstsymphonie, after 1927, would fall silent for no fewer than eight decades?

The fate that the Herbstsymphonie suffered could hardly have been worse for a symphonic milestone of its caliber. Even the dress rehearsal and the première, given by the Vienna Philharmonic under Felix Weingartner on 5 February 1922, were filled with ominous forebodings. A group of saboteurs blew whistles to disturb the performance and prevent the work from being heard, turning the evening into a fully-fledged scandal. Excesses and even fistfights broke out in the middle of the hall between the saboteurs and those members of the audience who wanted to listen to the piece undisturbed. According to newspaper reports these incredible incidents, which were debated long thereafter, lasted a full quarter of an hour; only then could the performance safely begin.

At this time Joseph Marx was head of the Vienna Academy of Music and one of the leading composers and teachers in Austria. Although he did not know exactly who the saboteurs were, he was perfectly aware of the extraordinary character of his symphony, its polarizing impact, and its technical difficulties. As he wrote to a friend on 22 March 1922:

My symphony brought forth both resounding applause and protestations from the critics and the audience. [...] The reason for the opposition, quite apart of course from the considerable modernity of its harmony and especially its orchestration, lay in the insufficient time set aside to master such a difficult piece. Only three rehearsals were scheduled, and the thing came off just quickly enough to ensure that all the notes were in place, everything being roughed out with no dynamic shading. Nevertheless, enough of the work remained so that anyone with ears and will-power could hear something tolerable.

One incontrovertible proof of the symphony's uncommonly high quality is that the technical and interpretive shortcomings of the première did not prevent most of the reviews from being ecstatic. Here is the Wiener Extrablatt of 5 February 1922:

The gigantic work leapt in one bold swoop to the forefront of modern orchestral music, exceeding all expectations and fears and placing wholly new and unprecedented tasks on the conductor and the members of the world's best orchestra. It drew violent protests from some but storms of applause from others, the latter finding expression when the composer was called onto the stage. Part of the audience incessantly cried out 'Marx, Marx, Marx'.

The same paper wrote on 16 February 1922:

A tidal wave of harmonies and discords erupted as never before from the modern orchestra. A romanesque southerly timbre glowed from the depths of the orchestra [...] a modern mixture with an audacity that betrayed a master and commander of counterpoint.

A further testimonial to Marx's incontestable competence was provided by the Wiener Morgenzeitung on 17 February 1922:

For a musician of Joseph Marx's individuality, it is useless to look for influences from the present. The wealth of melodic invention, the intricate mixtures of chords and timbres, and the loving depiction of Nature reveal this symphony to be Marx at his most genuine.

A few critics accused the symphony of dullness owing to its »undifferentiated length«. Marx himself dismissed these accusations in an open letter of 9 February 1922 to the Viennese musical attaché Hans Liebstöckl:

Where, pray, is the 'psychological rationale'? Are boring works capable of raising tempers so violently? As far as I know, works far longer and probably more boring than my symphony have often been played in concerts without protest! Several people claimed that I am no more modern than Strauss, Debussy, or Schreker. Is that so very 'unmodern'?

Despite the popularity of his music and the undisputed authority he enjoyed during his lifetime, Marx always had to confront musical adversaries. The above-mentioned letter to Liebstöckl takes up this very point:

When I wrote my many lieder I was generally told that they were 'piano concertos with obligato voice' that almost invariably fell short of the mark and were so difficult that their further dissemination was inconceivable. Today one can hear these pieces not only in every concert hall but even as serious interludes in places of entertainment. When I arranged a performance of my piano concerto [the Romantic Concerto of 1919] it was called a 'symphony with obligato piano.' Now I am told that my Herbstsymphonie consists of nothing but a couple of lieder! It is a vicious circle. My success is meant to be spoiled ex post facto by partial disapproval...

Even in the late 1930s, when Marx wrote his string quartets »in modo antico« and »in modo classico« (today they are recognized as humanistic monuments against the moral deterioration wrought by Nazi Germany), he again faced naysayers, who this time grotesquely called his music reactionary.

Hardly a year after its scandalous première the Herbstsymphonie was discovered by that connoisseur of timbre Clemens Krauss, who conducted it several times in Vienna and Graz until 1927. Only now did the work's true qualities come to the fore: every performance under Krauss's baton became a rousing success, and the scandal of the 1922 première was forgotten. But the complexity and difficulty of the gargantuan work remained. Only this can explain why no conductor tackled the Herbstsymphonie after 1927, and why the orchestral material was allowed to gather dust in the archives of Universal Edition for an incredible seventy-eight years. It was not until 24-25 October 2005 that the work was finally revived in Graz by the Large recreation Orchestra of Graz under the baton of Michel Swierczewski. Judging from the ecstatic reviews (in Die Presse, Kronen-Zeitung, Kleine Zeitung, Der Standard, and elsewhere), it was a repeat of the Herbstsymphonie's huge success in Graz during the 1920s.

Joseph Marx is absolutely indispensable for maintaining the musical culture of the future. Pablo Casals

The initial sketches for the Herbstsymphonie date from the year 1916. Marx set himself the goal of creating a musical depiction of the moods that affect the human mind in autumn: the passage of the year, the emergence and vanishing of Nature as an eternal symbol of human life. On an emotional level the work thus deals with the moods associated with a bountiful harvest, maturation, thoughts of leave-taking from the joys of summer, and the approach of winter. Autumn - Herbst - inspired Marx on many occasions, including the piano piece Herbstlegende, the songs An einen Herbstwald and Septembermorgen, and especially the broadly conceived single-movement cantata Herbstchor an Pan (Autumn Chorus to Pan; 1911), which may be seen as a precursor of the Herbstsymphonie.

No sooner had Marx finished the Herbstsymphonie than he again took up the seasons of the year in his Natur-Trilogie (1922-5), an orchestral work consisting of the three symphonic poems Symphonische Nachtmusik (Symphonic Nocturne), a highly sensual portrait of a summer night; Idylle, a picture of sun-kissed vineyards in late summer; and Eine Frühlungsmusik (Spring Music), portraying the rebirth of Nature in springtime. Later he turned to the subject of transience — an aspect emphasized in the Herbstsymphonie — in his orchestral song cycle Verklärtes Jahr (Transfigured Year), a work completed in 1932 that explicitly reuses themes and motifs from the Herbstsymphonie. But never again did he come even remotely close to the overpowering proportions of unbridled passion that distinguishes the Herbstsymphonie. Indeed, it was surely never his object to do so, for the Herbstsymphonie was unquestionably intended, and had to be, a point of culmination incapable of being surpassed.

Absolutely exceptional! Riccardo Chailly

Although nowhere wholly atonal, the Herbstsymphonie was thought far too modern by most of the contemporary traditionalists with whom Marx is frequently lumped. But he was a rebel by nature and was intent on being modern, without however wishing to be associated with the avant-garde, which, he felt, had no real future. With the Herbstsymphonie, a work that defies categorization into late romanticism, impressionism, expressionism, or modernism, he created a piece whose uniqueness and individuality place it fully on a par with the familiar great symphonies of the twentieth century. Its almost 75-minute duration even makes it noticeably longer than Richard Strauss's Alpine Symphony, a nature painting scored for a similarly large orchestra. The Herbstsymphonie set new standards in many respects and opened up uncharted territories of orchestral timbre. Unlike the Alpine Symphony, it celebrates the Bacchantic and Dionysian in their purest forms, as only could have sprung from the mind of an established mystic and hedonist like Joseph Marx.

The Herbstsymphonie is written for a large symphony orchestra including quadruple woodwind, six horns, four trumpets, three trombones, and a bass tuba, with a quintessentially Marxian tinge supplied by a piano, celesta, and two harps. The composer specifies that the string section be "very large" in order to hold its own against the huge contingent of percussion, which is unleashed en masse in several passages. Besides timpani, the piece calls for no fewer than nine percussionists, making it fully comparable to Arnold Schoenberg's Gurrelieder in this respect.

One might say that the Herbstsymphonie precisely meets the yardstick against which Marx himself was measured until the day of this death. This magnum opus by a larger-than-life musician of recognized authority could hardly be less excessive than its creator (Marx was in many ways a man of extremes). Besides the typically audacious handling of the percussion, the symphony is distinguished above all by the telling modernity of its harmony. Though always beholden to the tradition of his age-mates Mahler, Strauss, and Schreker in his overall conception, Marx was at least ahead of his time in his firm commitment to tonality. In the Herbstsymphonie he presents his listeners with a highly accessible and willful idiom that conspicuously stands out from the styles of his like-minded contemporaries.

Hans Jancik, writing in volume 8 of Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart (1960, pp. 1738-9), describes Marx's work in musicology:

In compensation for his always overflowing imagination, this highly learned musician possesses a razor-sharp mind that seeks correlatives between technique and expression.

Following this same principle, Marx cleverly interweaves the main themes of the Herbstsymphonie among its movements, transforming them into ever-new timbral guises. Accordingly, he deliberately dispenses with classical symphonic form in favor of rhapsodic development and surprising major-minor variants of his main themes. The more closely we analyze the score, the more perfect seems the overall structure of a work in which every pathway opened by the statement or repetition of a theme is brought to a close at its appointed moment. In this sense, the Herbstsymphonie is not only extremely multi-layered in its myriad contrapuntally convoluted instants, it is above all a supremely complex and yet completely logical masterpiece when taken as a whole.

The Herbstsymphonie was composed in the autumn of 1921 and bears a dedication to the composer's lifelong companion Anna Hansa. It consists of four movements, the first two being elided without a break. The opening movement, in an agitated B minor, is subtitled Ein Herbstgesang (A Song to Autumn). The first measures state the symphony's highly distinctive main theme in the cellos, contrasting with an intricately layered effect produced by the piano, celesta, and two harps. This effect, momentarily recalling Franz Schreker's opera Die Gezeichneten, goes on to permeate virtually the entire movement. Here connoisseurs will already descry Marx's masterly technique: taken by themselves, each of these timbrally distinct instruments is harmonically and rhythmically complex and seems already detached from the tonality. Yet their interaction lends the movement an underlying sense of mystery that gives rise to a wholly novel, post-impressionist, scintillating timbral backdrop. The alternations lead to a brief crescendo, after which the main theme returns in a fuller instrumentation and is varied and developed in passages of almost intoxicating rapture. In between we hear a passage that conjures up reminiscences of one of Marx's major forebears, Alexander Skryabin, followed by a transformation of the main theme in the full orchestra. This culminates in an orgiastic climax resolving into tranquillity and a gentle transition to the second movement.

The second movement, Tanz der Mittagsgeister (Dance of the Midday Spirits) in a very fast E-flat major, is a musical recreation of the popular poetic notion that nymphs and fauns gather together in forest meadows and vineyards at midday to dance a colorful round. Though seemingly a Viennese ländler on the surface, the movement is concerned with the depiction of bustling motion, the coruscating brilliance of a meadow bathed in the noonday sun. At times the music approaches ballet, recalling Maurice Ravel's roughly contemporary La Valse as well as his earlier Daphnis et Chloé in its chromatic flute runs and harp effects. The movement finally culminates in an exhilarating climax replete with midday bells, after which calm returns as the spirits withdraw into their invisible world. The score offers two alternative final bars for this movement: originally Marx wanted a quiet fade-out, but a later version, inserted in the printed score, offers a loud final crash as an alternative. The choice between them is left to the conductor.

The third movement, Herbstgedanken (Autumnal Thoughts) in a peaceful D major, forms the symphony's moment of repose. Unlike the other movements, Marx deliberately avoids the timbral effects of piano, harp, celesta, and percussion, employing only the timpani. An impressionist opening reminiscent of Delius - or perhaps more accurately Arnold Bax - reveals his affinity to the symphonies of Mahler. Here, as in the first movement, we again find melancholy intensifications of the themes and rhapsodic renderings of Nature. In the middle of the movement we hear a dolorous string passage redolent of Wagner, slowly but ineluctably evolving into a succession of emotional outpourings accompanied by broad rolls on the timpani. Finally, to the sounds of strings and clarinets, this extraordinary and deeply felt movement comes to the same contemplative ending with which it had begun. The circle of autumnal farewells comes to a full close in almost blissful perfection.

The fourth and final movement, Ein Herbstpoem (A Poem to Autumn), originally titled Ernte und Heimkehr (Harvest and Homecoming), opens in D major and ends in B major. In 1946 Marx arranged it as a symphonic poem (with cuts and numerous small-scale departures from the fourth movement of the symphony) and gave it the title Feste in Herbst (aka Herbstfeier; Autumnal Revelries). This symphonic poem is likewise available in print from Universal Edition. Another heavily abridged tone poem entitled Sinfonische Tänze (Symphonic Dances), evidently also based on material from the fourth movement, exists only in the form of a gramophone recording by the Vienna Symphony under Karl Etti and is otherwise considered lost.

The final movement of the Herbstsymphonie, headed »very agitated«, opens with a tumultuous portrait of a jubilant harvest scene in which motivic fragments reappear from the earlier movements. The commotion leads to an old vineyard dance that in turn gives way to a misterioso section, an enigmatic nocturne with shimmering stars and chirping crickets. This is followed by a rhythmic ländler-like passage with a Mediterranean lilt in which the xylophone makes its first appearance, even solo, along with part of the large percussion section. The dance theme is then worked into a hymn, and we hear a brass chorale followed by a crescendo that culminates in an orgiastic climax of deliriously rich harmonic writing accompanied by the timpani. A solo violin bravely enters the fray while the other instrumental groups join in free improvisations on motifs from all four movements. All of the main themes are then united, and a dramatic crescendo in masterly counterpoint brings the fourth movement to a culmination involving the entire orchestral apparatus in a gigantic, all-encompassing climax of Skryabinesque proportions. Now the opening theme of the first movement reappears in the major mode with calm melodic arcs of typically Marxian spaciousness, generating a mood of profound melancholy. Thus the Herbstsymphonie ends in veneration for the passing and reemergence of all sentient life, yearningly taking its place in the eternal cycle of birth and death.