Who Are You, Olivier Messiaen?Author(s): Olivier Messiaen and Bernard GavotySource: Tempo, New Series, No. 58 (Summer, 1961), pp. 33-36Published by: Cambridge University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/944251Accessed: 21/09/2010 19:28

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WHO ARE YOU, OLIVIER MESSIAEN? WHO ARE YOU, OLIVIER MESSIAEN?

A chronical of the first performance, the experience gained from it, sub- sequent changes listed, different aspects shown by different performances as available, reactions of conductors and players-all this could help to bring the music into focus. And by surrounding the score with apparently irrelevant details -and I am not thinking of an 'analysis' (as the construction methods of 'serial' scores used to be called), but, for example, of the circumstances in which it was written, or your financial status at the time, or the climate, etc., etc. (these are after all also reasons why the piece shows the features-or lack of feature-that it does)-it would be possible to give it a sort of approachable personality.

41-The following example of Morton Feldman's work is so rich that I find myself unable to comment on it.

4- 4ta..

4 t- , : a M A {, f '"S T I lf , ? , 2

*SLow TuCTiWl ARE Sf( 51rT ToITHi T Sort Te%uv4(mut'

(la f"-..A ^ *? R<. ^ ')

42-Availability of scores. All Cage's work may now be obtained through Peters Edition (with some delay). His Winter Music, on the other hand, can be viewed immediately in the magazine "New Departures 2/3", obtainable from Otto Schmink, S7, Greek Street, W.I.

A selection of Bussotti's works has been published by Universal Edition

(signed copies are more expensive), from whom Stockhausen's Refrain may also be obtained, if not now, then in the near future. Carre on the other hand-which is a work for 4 orchestras and 4 choruses under 4 conductors and lasts 3 g minutes -is unlikely to be available for some time.

Isolated pieces by Wolff and Feldman have appeared in the American 'New Music Publications', which may be borrowed from the library of the American Information Service. Feldman's Piano 3 Hands may appear shortly in the Leeds

magazine Accent together with my comment on it.

My February 1959 appeared in New Departures I which is now a collector's item, but February 1960 is to be found amongst the Darmstddter Beitrdge zur neuen Musik 1960 which is obtainable, at a price, from Schott's Music Publishers.

London v '6i.

WHO ARE YOU, OLIVIER MESSIAEN? The following discussion between Olivier Messiaen and Bernard Gavoty, music critic of Figaro, took place at a Youth Music concert in Paris in February of this

year immediately before a performance of Messiaen's Trois petites Liturgies de la

presence divine. It was subsequently published in the Journal Musical FranFais to whom we are indebted for permission to print the following translation. B.G. Who are you, Olivier Messiaen? O.M. A musician-that is my profession. A rhythmologist-that is my speciality.

An ornithologist-that is my passion.

A chronical of the first performance, the experience gained from it, sub- sequent changes listed, different aspects shown by different performances as available, reactions of conductors and players-all this could help to bring the music into focus. And by surrounding the score with apparently irrelevant details -and I am not thinking of an 'analysis' (as the construction methods of 'serial' scores used to be called), but, for example, of the circumstances in which it was written, or your financial status at the time, or the climate, etc., etc. (these are after all also reasons why the piece shows the features-or lack of feature-that it does)-it would be possible to give it a sort of approachable personality.

41-The following example of Morton Feldman's work is so rich that I find myself unable to comment on it.

4- 4ta..

4 t- , : a M A {, f '"S T I lf , ? , 2

*SLow TuCTiWl ARE Sf( 51rT ToITHi T Sort Te%uv4(mut'

(la f"-..A ^ *? R<. ^ ')

42-Availability of scores. All Cage's work may now be obtained through Peters Edition (with some delay). His Winter Music, on the other hand, can be viewed immediately in the magazine "New Departures 2/3", obtainable from Otto Schmink, S7, Greek Street, W.I.

A selection of Bussotti's works has been published by Universal Edition

(signed copies are more expensive), from whom Stockhausen's Refrain may also be obtained, if not now, then in the near future. Carre on the other hand-which is a work for 4 orchestras and 4 choruses under 4 conductors and lasts 3 g minutes -is unlikely to be available for some time.

Isolated pieces by Wolff and Feldman have appeared in the American 'New Music Publications', which may be borrowed from the library of the American Information Service. Feldman's Piano 3 Hands may appear shortly in the Leeds

magazine Accent together with my comment on it.

My February 1959 appeared in New Departures I which is now a collector's item, but February 1960 is to be found amongst the Darmstddter Beitrdge zur neuen Musik 1960 which is obtainable, at a price, from Schott's Music Publishers.

London v '6i.

WHO ARE YOU, OLIVIER MESSIAEN? The following discussion between Olivier Messiaen and Bernard Gavoty, music critic of Figaro, took place at a Youth Music concert in Paris in February of this

year immediately before a performance of Messiaen's Trois petites Liturgies de la

presence divine. It was subsequently published in the Journal Musical FranFais to whom we are indebted for permission to print the following translation. B.G. Who are you, Olivier Messiaen? O.M. A musician-that is my profession. A rhythmologist-that is my speciality.

An ornithologist-that is my passion.

33 33

B.G. Where and when were you born? O.M. On the ioth of December, I908, in Avignon-by accident. In my heart

I am a Dauphinois. I am not at all attracted by the Midi, but I love

passionately mountains in general and those of the Dauphine in particular. B.G. Your father, a teacher of English, made very well-known translations of the

works of Shakespeare . . . O.M. That is so. From my childhood I lived daily in the midst of Shakespearean

heroes. At the age of eight I built theatrical sets of coloured cellophane and myself acted all the plays of Shakespeare for a single spectator, my brother Alain. Later, all this Shakespearean 'climate' was transformed into music ... My mother was the poetess Cecile Sauvage. Among other things, she has written an extraordinary book of 'pre-maternity', L'Ame en bourgeon. Throughout the book she addresses the child that she carries within her; although not yet born I was its hero.

B.G. Are you of Flemish origin? The sound of your name would suggest so . . . O.M. The Flemish origin is real but distant; it goes back more than two centuries.

But, if it is true that certain manifestations of Flemish art are full of mystery and fantasy, I have within myself a love of all things mysterious and marvellous: witness my love of Shakespeare, and then later I have sung the

privileges of the Corps Glorieux. B.G. Nevertheless, you have, in a single phrase, made three important declar-

ations. You have said: 'I am a born believer, musician and revolutionary'. Was your family background very religious?

O.M. I was neither for nor against . . . Myself, I have always believed, simply and completely with the faith of a charcoal-burner. God for me is manifest, and my conception of sacred music derives from this conviction. God

being present in all things, music dealing with theological subjects can and must be extremely varied. The Catholic religion is a real fairy-story- with this difference, it is all true. I have therefore, in the words of Ernest Hello, tried to produce 'a music that touches all things without ceasing to touch God'. But, if my music is a spontaneous act of faith, without

premeditation, it is by no means a mystical music. B.G. You were 'born a musician'. Your family were . . . O.M. .... a family of writers, poets and cultivated men who loved music, but

that's all. My vocation was quite unexpected. At the age of eight I went to the Lycee in Grenoble. When I returned home I sat at the piano and learnt by myself. I suddenly felt an irresistible passion and worked out

sufficiently well Mozart's Don Giovanni and Berlioz's Damnation of Faust. After the war we moved to Nantes and it was there that I met my first teacher, Jehan de Gibon, who gave me as a present Debussy's Pelleas et Melisande (an inconceivable thing in I918 for a provincial teacher to give Pelleas et Me'lisande to a ten year old boy!). It was this score that decided my vocation. Later we moved to Paris and I entered the Conservatoire. There I studied under admirable teachers: Jean Gallon, Noel Gallon (harmony), Estyle (piano accompaniment), Caussade (fugue), Marcel Dupre (organ and

improvization), Maurice Emmanuel (history), Paul Dukas (composition and orchestration).

B.G. How have you reconciled your academic studies with your revolutionary ideas?

O.M. On leaving the Conservatoire I discovered new horizons: (i) plainchant,

TEMPO 34

WHO ARE YOU, OLIVIER MESSIAEN ?

necessary for my work as an organist; (2) Greek metrics; (3) Hindu

rhythm; without ever having been to India, I felt it within me-this

rhythmic system is the most highly evolved of all music; (4) folklore of the Chinese, Japanese, Peruvians, Bolivians and Balinese who incorporate pentatonic modes in their work. I worked at all this assiduously. It is said that I have constructed a theory. Perhaps. But then my theory is of such

spontaneity, it has been so well absorbed into my veins, that I improvize just as easily as I write, in the same style. All impressions are transformed into music within me. Hence a photograph of stalagmites and stalactites at once suggests a melody to me; a stained glass window inspires in me a

sequence ofchords and timbres. Moreover, Iam extremely sensitive to colours and the sound-colour relationship. I hear and see very precisely certain of

my modes in violet, lilac, and violaceous purple pigmented with red . . .

Having said that, it is true that I am interested above all in the future.

Having learned traditional techniques at the Conservatoire, on leaving it I forged a personal technique for myself. Within these conditions I believe in a progression, if not in progress. I believe that all changes, that all advances; that it is necessary to give place to the young; one cannot say the same thing again and again. But originality is not something that can be willed. The important thing is to be personal, without seeking to be so.

B.G. You say that the twentieth century is that of rhythm . . . O.M. That is so, and I believe that I was one of the first to put the accent on

rhythm; for me duration is more important than sonority. B.G. But rhythm is, in itself, a simple thing; do you not think that an excess of

subdivision and subtlety will lead eventually to an insensitivity of the ear? O.AM. For many people rhythm is a sensation arising from the incessant repetition

of the same duration; this is a mistake. Others confuse rhythm and measure; another mistake-but more serious. Rhythm is a matter of

intelligence; the more perfect the human brain becomes, the more one will be able to use complex rhythms. One will be able to appreciate more

easily the difference between very short values of only slight divergence, and, more difficult, between very long values of only a slight divergence. Everyone can achieve this with patience and study. This year I am devoting my analysis course at the Conservatoire to the study of rhythm. And I am

preparing a huge 'treatise on rhythm'; it will be more than i,000 pages long. B.C. You are an ornithologist: what gave you the idea to study bird-song? O.M. It is an instinctive passion. Bird-song is also my refuge. In dark hours,

when my uselessness is brutally revealed to me and all the musical languages of the world seem to be merely an effort of patient research, without there

being anything behind the notes to justify so much work-I go into the forest, into fields, into mountains, by the sea, among birds . . . it is there that music dwells for me; free, anonymous music, improvized for pleasure.

I have been collecting bird-song for twenty years. I did this instinctively, for my own personal pleasure; then I was ashamed of working blindly. I made contact with ornithologists. I accompanied them on expeditions. In this way I have prospected the Charente with Jacques Penot, the Isle of Ushant with Robert-Daniel Etchecopar, Herault with Francois Hue, the eastern Pyrenees and the Banyuls region with Henri Lomont. It is a con- siderable task; do you know that there are ten thousand species of birds in the world?

35

TEMPO TEMPO

Birds sing very early in the morning, or very late in the evening; some

sing at night. Almost all are silent between midday and four. The 'seasons' for birds extends from the end of March to the end of June.

B.G. How do you notate bird-song? O.M. I write down rapidly what I hear; the melody and rhythm. I do not note

the timbre. As timbre arises from a more or less large number of harmonics it is necessary for me to seek combinations of unexpected sounds, to re-invent at each moment and for each bird. Moreover, birds do not sing alone, there are others in the habitat and one hears, in fact, a counterpoint of thirty or forty voices.

Birds alone are the great artists. They are the real authors of some of my pieces.

B.G. Have you been influenced by surrealism? O.M. I have been a great reader and admirer of Pierre Reverdy and Paul Eluard.

I am, therefore, some sort of surrealist in the poems for my works, if not in my music. For I myself have written the poems for all my works- for the Trois petites Liturgies as well as for the others.

B.G. For whom do you write? O.M. Only for myself. I am as indifferent to applause as to boos. But if someone

cries in the hall, then I too am moved to tears. Otherwise I experience neither pleasure nor lasting sadness in face of such and such a public reaction. One thing alone is important to me; to rejoin the eternal durations and the resonances of the above and beyond, to apprehend that inaudible which is above actual music . . . Naturally, I shall never achieve this ...

Birds sing very early in the morning, or very late in the evening; some

sing at night. Almost all are silent between midday and four. The 'seasons' for birds extends from the end of March to the end of June.

B.G. How do you notate bird-song? O.M. I write down rapidly what I hear; the melody and rhythm. I do not note

the timbre. As timbre arises from a more or less large number of harmonics it is necessary for me to seek combinations of unexpected sounds, to re-invent at each moment and for each bird. Moreover, birds do not sing alone, there are others in the habitat and one hears, in fact, a counterpoint of thirty or forty voices.

Birds alone are the great artists. They are the real authors of some of my pieces.

B.G. Have you been influenced by surrealism? O.M. I have been a great reader and admirer of Pierre Reverdy and Paul Eluard.

I am, therefore, some sort of surrealist in the poems for my works, if not in my music. For I myself have written the poems for all my works- for the Trois petites Liturgies as well as for the others.

B.G. For whom do you write? O.M. Only for myself. I am as indifferent to applause as to boos. But if someone

cries in the hall, then I too am moved to tears. Otherwise I experience neither pleasure nor lasting sadness in face of such and such a public reaction. One thing alone is important to me; to rejoin the eternal durations and the resonances of the above and beyond, to apprehend that inaudible which is above actual music . . . Naturally, I shall never achieve this ...

SONGS OF TRAVEL

by Vaughan Williams

(Boosey & Hawkes) Complete Edition, 10/6)

There is a limit to what critical objectivity can achieve in evaluating music that entered one's life in youth when the sap was rising and so became part of one's whole consciousness. How can one detach oneself from a song of which every note recalls the voices of the dead, of tunes that bring back an epoch, of

accompaniments that were one's own practical initiation? They stir the emotions of real life as well as the emotions of art, and the two are so intertwined that judgment cannot decide which is which. Thus the re-issue of Songs of Travel, which date from the first decade of the

century, stirs the sharp-sweet emotion of

nostalgia at the same time as they rouse again the musical delight they gave long ago.

But this at least can be said of them without

confusing any issues: they sound the authentic voice of the young Vaughan Williams. Before the war separated us for ever from Victorian and Edwardian England these songs indicated that a new breeze was stirring in English composition. Their modal flavour marked

SONGS OF TRAVEL

by Vaughan Williams

(Boosey & Hawkes) Complete Edition, 10/6)

There is a limit to what critical objectivity can achieve in evaluating music that entered one's life in youth when the sap was rising and so became part of one's whole consciousness. How can one detach oneself from a song of which every note recalls the voices of the dead, of tunes that bring back an epoch, of

accompaniments that were one's own practical initiation? They stir the emotions of real life as well as the emotions of art, and the two are so intertwined that judgment cannot decide which is which. Thus the re-issue of Songs of Travel, which date from the first decade of the

century, stirs the sharp-sweet emotion of

nostalgia at the same time as they rouse again the musical delight they gave long ago.

But this at least can be said of them without

confusing any issues: they sound the authentic voice of the young Vaughan Williams. Before the war separated us for ever from Victorian and Edwardian England these songs indicated that a new breeze was stirring in English composition. Their modal flavour marked

them off from Mendelssohn and the drawing- room ballad. They were robust-Vaughan Williams's previous success as a song-writer had been with Rossetti's exquisite Silent Noon, and he was now approaching Walt Whitman by way of R. L. Stevenson. This was new music for a new century.

The new edition adds the earlier Whither shall I wander? to the original seven. It also contains a posthumous epilogue, a setting of I have trod the upward and the downward slope, in which the composer recaptures the manner of

sixty years ago (though the actual date of com-

position is unknown), and makes some thematic allusions in the piano part to three of the

preceding songs, thus converting the set into a true song-cycle. There are also similar thematic allusions in Youth and Love, which now stands fourth in the set. The piano writing uses the conventions of the period very felicitously, all the more so in view of the fact that as his thought developed Vaughan Williams's piano writing became more angular. Here then they are again rejuvenated, characteristic of their time, an earnest of the

greater man to come, but unmistakably a

permanent acquisition to the long tradition of

English song-still 'fine songs for singing' rare songs to hear'. FRANK HOWES

them off from Mendelssohn and the drawing- room ballad. They were robust-Vaughan Williams's previous success as a song-writer had been with Rossetti's exquisite Silent Noon, and he was now approaching Walt Whitman by way of R. L. Stevenson. This was new music for a new century.

The new edition adds the earlier Whither shall I wander? to the original seven. It also contains a posthumous epilogue, a setting of I have trod the upward and the downward slope, in which the composer recaptures the manner of

sixty years ago (though the actual date of com-

position is unknown), and makes some thematic allusions in the piano part to three of the

preceding songs, thus converting the set into a true song-cycle. There are also similar thematic allusions in Youth and Love, which now stands fourth in the set. The piano writing uses the conventions of the period very felicitously, all the more so in view of the fact that as his thought developed Vaughan Williams's piano writing became more angular. Here then they are again rejuvenated, characteristic of their time, an earnest of the

greater man to come, but unmistakably a

permanent acquisition to the long tradition of

English song-still 'fine songs for singing' rare songs to hear'. FRANK HOWES

36 36