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MESSIAEN AND GREEK POETIC FORMS
Composer Olivier Messiaen may be called, among other
things, an assembler of interpolated meanings with respect to how he
conceives of and composes music. The nature and diversity of the
elements he ‘assembles’ is not even limited to musical devices but
extends to the fields of linguistics, color, imitations of nature,
symbolism, movement, and poetry. This short study will
concentrate on the latter two elements, movement and poetry, as seen
specifically in Messiaen’s evoking of the triadic ancient Greek ode
form. Two of his most famous pieces, Chronochromie and the first
movement of Catalogue d’Oiseaux (among others where the triadic form is
either expressly employed or vaguely implied) derive their musical
forms from the triadic ode format. Knowing Messiaen’s vast “cultural,
historical and stylistic promiscuity” (Hill 393) and his habit of
imbuing his musical works with extramusical phenomena (not to mention
his early education in Greek poetry), one would immediately suspect
there to be a reason behind his allusion to these ancient poetic
forms. But then, knowing Messiaen’s propensity to obfuscate and
veil his influences and devices to the point of imperceptibility, one
wonders if the musical illustration of these poetic forms will be so
subtle as to evade an understanding of the connection in the first
place.
There is much evidence that any investigation will
show no connection between the two art forms short of dubious
hyper-analytical connections drawn from specious observations. Hill
alludes to Messiaen’s “somewhat wayward adaptation of the Greek
originals” (412) and Messiaen’s own writings offer little help in
understanding his method of adaptation, stating only that his
works utilize and illustrate the Greek forms and then moving on to some
other topic (Samuel 76). In his Traité de rythme, couleur, et
d’ornithology Messiaen writes on the content of Chronochromie’s
strophe-antistrophe-epode form for 15 pages without suggesting a
possible rhythmic connection that might have informed his use of the
odes in the first place (Messiaen 84-100). Reasoning behind his
selection of the odes is not even mentioned in Technique de mon langage
musicale. If the poetic forms, when worn by Messiaen’s music, retain
some essential reflection of their nature; its musical appearance could
be as chimerical as any other of the techniques and references he had
used in his work.
Before exploring Messiaen’s use of Greek poetic
forms, it is important to know what they originally were, so as to
better recognize them within his musical fabric. The triadic form which
Messiaen employs is that of the old Greek odes, specifically those of
Pindar (Crotty, 24). Pindaric odes are those which take this
strophe-antistrophe-epode shape, wherein the antistrophe uses exactly
the same metrical scheme of the strophe, and the epode is similar, but
different (ibid.). Because the specific meter of the ode would have
varied due to many factors including the occasion for which it was
written, we shall have to use this general formal definition of the
Pindaric ode as our guide. Indeed, not only did the strophe-antistrophe
pair enjoy a parallel relationship, but they became shadows of one
another when one realizes that the odes involved movement during
recitation, with the strophe danced to the left and the antistrophe to
the right. The epode was recited (sung) standing still (Mullen, 90-91).
Already the student of Messiaen’s music can start
imagining correlations between the poetic form and his musical
language: can the Greek long-short syllable patterns be reflected in
the rhythms of tones or duration of sections in these ‘strophic’
musical excerpts? Can the movement of the triadic form indicate the
positive/negative/static nature of the trois personages rhythmiques?
Will the identical metrical structures of the strophe-antistrophe pair
be mirrored somehow in the duration or formal construction of the
musical movements? Surely the nature of Greek poetry allows so many
possible connections to Messiaen’s philosophy of music, but it remains
that the proof must lie not in knowledge of the composer’s
predilections but in the musical output itself.
The massive musical litany Catalogue d’Oiseaux
(1956-58) and the imposing artistic statement Chronochromie (1959-60)
both come from one of the climatic periods in Messiaen’s musical output
when, according to Peter Hill, “he foreswore his box of tricks - his
modes of limited transposition and deçî-tâlas - to
set forth with only his acute musical ear, of which he was so proud, as
guide” (392). It does not seem from this assessment that firm
analytical ground could be found for anything, least of all his
employment of ‘an ancient technique in modern dress’ (ibid.) such as
the case at hand. Even Messiaen, when talking to Claude Samuel
regarding Catalogue d’Oiseaux, states in the same breath his attempt to
“depict exactly the...birdsong...” but also the fact that “people who
really know the birds might not be able to recognize them in my
music...unintentionally I may introduce something of my own manner of
listening in reproducing the birdsong” (61). Considering he labeled the
first movement of the Catalogue as a Greek poetic triad, and even gave
programmatic mile markers along the way, it is very possible the poetic
form could have suffered the same assimilative fate as the birdsong:
having entered Messiaen through his curiosity but left through his
creativity, there may be more evidence of the musician than the poet in
this musical verse. The mere use of a such a rigidly programmatic,
almost cinematic, compositional style would seem to preclude any place
for the work within the structured walls of the Pindaric ode. But it is
by his program that Messiaen manages to mirror the poetic form quite
closely (an ingeniously).
The movement, entitled Chocard des Alpes, follows
the flight of one of these Alpine Choughs and its flock, and in the
score Messiaen provides a narrative introduction in which one can
already see his consideration for the unique characteristics of the
triadic form:
“Strophe: the alps of the dauphiné, l’Oisans.
Rising toward the Maidje and its three glaciers. First couplet: near
the chancel hut; the Lake of Puy-Vacher, marvellous mountain landscape,
chasms and precipices. Uttering its cry the alpine chough, separated
from its flock, flies over the precipice. The veiled flight, silent and
majestic, of the golden eagle, borne on aerial currents. The raucous
and ferocious croackings and groanings of the Raven, lord of the high
mountain. Various cries of Choughs and their acrobatic flight
(glides-swoops and loopings) above the chasms.
Antistrophe: before Saint-Christophe-en-Oisans, the
Clapier Saint-Christophe: the chaos of crumbling, Dante-esque rocks,
piled up in disorder by the giants of the mountains. Second couplet: an
alpine chough circles the landscape, flying as in the First couplet.
Epode: Les Ecrins: the crique de Bonne-Pierre, with
its immense rocks, aligned like phantom giants, or like the towers of a
supernatural fortress.”
We see the strophe opens over the grandiose and
mysterious landscape of the Alps, and then in his couplets we have the
lost Alpine Chough, flying over the chasms. We hear not only the
chough’s cry but that of the raven (Grand Corbeau), and amid the cries
of many choughs the strophe ends. The antistrophe opens on a slightly
different landscape, in a way more intimate (or at least less general)
than the backdrop for the strophe. The scene is much the same, but it
is as if we are seeing a small magnified segment of the long-shot
action of the strophe. The epode ushers in a new focus for our mental
eyes and ears; instead of seeing our heroic bird fly amid the
mysterious rock formations, we are transfixed by the rocks themselves.
The titular bird is not even mentioned, thus creating not only a
contrast, but by retaining the landscape and developing it almost into
a character of this drama, Messiaen creates a contrast from a unity.
The fact that the bird and the flock make their appearance in the
scene-by-scene indications in the score but not in the narrative
preface reflects how their presence in the second section is merely an
echo of their role in the first.
As each event unfolds, many indications are written
into the score, making it easy to identify where each segment of the
triadic poem begins and ends. Within the music, thanks to the parallel
story line, we are witness to parallel, yet different, music; thus the
music represents the similar-yet-different quality of the
strophe-antistrophe relationship. A brief look at the musical sections
of each poetic structure can reveal their similarities and differences
(all metronome markings [M] are for the eighth note):
STROPHE
M=120: en montant vers le glacier de la Meidje
M=112 Chocard des Alpes [Alpine chough]
M=132 les Chocards
M=40 Cri du Chocard
M=52 ascension immobile et mystérieuse
M=132 and 144 Grand Corbeau [Raven]
M=160 and 112 les Chocards
M=72 and 92 [no title given]
M=160 vol des Chocards
M=40 Cri du Chocard
M=160 vol des Chocards
ANTISTROPHE
M=120 Chaus de blocs écroulés du clapier Saint Christophe
M=112 Chocard des Alpes [Alpine chough]
M=72 and 92 [no title given]
M=40 Cri du Chocard
M=52 ascension immobile et mystérieuse
M=132 and 144 Grand Corbeau [Raven]
M=160 and 112 les Chocards
M=132 and 112 les Chocards
M=160 vol des Chocards
M=40 Cri du Chocard
M=160 vol des Chocards
In this format it is clear to see many things about
the related structures of the two sections: the first moment at 120
introduces the landscape rather than the bird itself, the landscape
which will become so important in the epode; at M=112 the Alpine Chough
is introduced, and the sections end with the double vol des Chocards
interrupted by the solitary Cri du Chocard. With a closer look we see
that every section is repeated (at least by name if not by actually
musical content), but the order is different. Indeed, the M=72 and 92
pairing which mysteriously has no programmatic title, which appeared at
the end of the strophe makes its way to the beginning of the
antistrophe. In addition, the musical content in the antistrophe’s M=72
section in particular is a quasi retrograde of its partner section in
the strophe. This also relegates the M132 and 112 pairing to switch
spots as well, and perhaps we think this unnamed M=72 and 92 section
has something to do with the action, as its two locations in the piece
appear closely together while the sound of the entire flock of choughs
(M=132 and 112) appears at the beginning and the end, possibly to
illustrate the flock’s initial unity disrupted by the lost bird, and
its unity regained. This is one point Messiaen does not write words
about, but perhaps the answer is in the music itself.
The epode does what an epode should do, which is
contrast with the strophe-antistrophe pair; it occurs with the title
crique fantômatique de Bonne Pierre and it contains only this
section, at only one tempo (M=120). This is different not only because
up until this point we have not stayed in one tempo for more than
twenty something measures, but also because during all the metrical
modulations of the strophe-antistrophe, M=120 was never heard
(Messiaen, 1-10). As Mullen imagines the audiences witnessing the
dancing of the original Greek odes, “As one saw the dancers block out a
special pattern in the space reserved for the epode, one would also
experience a special emphasis on the words reserved for it” (91).
If a musical epode ever displayed special musical
emphasis, it is the aviary scene in Chronochromie. In this work
Messiaen’s double strophe-antistrophe form is bookended by a musically
coherent but poetically unrelated introduction and coda pair, but not
before the appearance of the epode to close the central ode triad. All
throughout Chronochromie the musical structure owes its coherence to
serially interverted orders of rhythmic duration which dictate lengths
of sections, phrases, timbral effects, and in the case of the strophes,
entire movements. These interversions even make an appearance in the
nearly irrelevant (mutually related but outside the scheme of the
internal movements) introduction-coda pair, but in the epode not one of
the 32 durational rows are to be found. The epode is dedicated to 18
solo strings chirping away at birdcalls, all within one steady tempo
and an unchanging 4 / 8 meter (except for a silent 3/8 bar to close the
movement). The result, in a work whose mathematical structures are
audibly evident, is an aural effect of improvisation en masse creating
an impenetrable texture unheard anywhere else in the piece.
The strophes and antistrophes which precede it come
in two pairs, the former of each having its entire length decided by
the progression of the 32 durational interversions. As a result, the
strophes, being in the same tempo as each other, have exactly the same
temporal duration. Each contains 33 measures of 4 / 8 at M=92, with one
silent 2 / 8 bar to end the movement. The music they contain is
completely different, and the steady 4 / 8, while not quite as clouded
as it is in the epode, is hardly perceptible due to the disparate
musical lines acting upon one another simultaneously. Yet the listener
perceives their connective fabric, which all the more sets up the
contrast of the antistrophes.
In the antistrophes, only fragments of a few of the
32 interverted rows are employed, which makes them nearly imperceptible
to the ear and makes one wonder why Messiaen included them at all. What
does distinguish the antistrophes is their nearly constant pulse in
various (mostly mallet percussion) instruments. This quasi-monodic
texture is contrasted with the strophe’s dense timbres and mixed
rhythmic counterpoint. However, the antistrophes counterbalance this
seemingly easy-to-follow texture by undergoing nearly constant changes
to meter and tempo, a technique unseen in the strophes. The
antistrophes are rarely in a time signature for more than one bar, and
undergo numerous tempo changes. It is interesting to note that although
the periods spent in each tempo differ (due to different meters and
numbers of measures used), the progression of tempo changes in both
antistrophes are identical:
(here "e" refers to an eighth note. Pv)
e=160, e=144, e=160, e=144, e=160,
x=120, e=50, x=168
Unfortunately it seems the similarities between the
antistrophes end there; an analysis of their duration based on tempo
shows that within the 5 tempi (as expressed in quarter note M values as
M=80, 72, 30, 25 and 42) antistrophe I’s measures totaled 23, 43,
14.75, 12.25, and 17.25 quarter note equivalents while antistrophe II
reached 67.625, 99.75, 15.75, 14.5, and 32 quarter note equivalents
respectively. This makes the ratio of the duration of the two
antistrophes 1:1.799, contrasting with the identical periods of the
strophes.
Messiaen manages to solve the problem of creating
this similar-opposite relationship between strophe and antistrophe by
having the strophes, restricted in tempo and duration, act as a control
while the antistrophes, following identical maps but taking different
directions as it were, exhibit a more diversified musical possibility
within the same rhythmic-durational system. Thus the strophes dutifully
dance to the left, after which the antistrophes remove any ground
gained by dancing back to the right, over the same tracks but with
every motion turned to its inversion. The intangible coherence of the
nebulous epode becomes the equivalent of the Greek chorus standing
still to recite the concluding part of the poetic triad. The addition
of this ‘organized chaos’ rounds out the Chronochromie’s rhythmic
game; it too uses a rigid single tempo and meter like the strophes, but
varies to the extreme in content and affect, as mentioned earlier. In
this sense, by having the final word in a rhythmic riddle completely
override the structural integrity which lent coherence to the preceding
sections, this epode lives up to Gilbert Murray’s idea of it’s role
from his Classical Tradition of Poetry: “[the epode] puts a crown on
the pair, much as the central figure in the pediment puts a crown on
the two sides” (Johnson 160).
While the smaller-scale Chocard des Alpes allows
Messiaen to weave a highly specific and detailed allusion to the Greek
poetic triad, Chronochromie reflects those relationships best when the
entire musical structure is taken into consideration rather than
focusing on every local musical event which occurs therein. In the
reversal of section sequence and the occasional retrograde of material
in Chocard, Messiaen achieves the unique strophe-antistrophe relation,
while in Chronochromie this duality is achieved by seeing contrasting
functional and aesthetic results arise from the same starting
techniques. This mirrored parallelism coupled with the epodes’
reflection of stasis, either the physical stasis of the rocks depicted
in Chocard or the perceived metrical stasis in Chronochromie, completes
what is in the end a subtle and masterful musical rendering of the
relations of rhythmic content and movement associated with each section
of the Greek poetic triad. If it seems that Messiaen did not follow the
rules closely enough, it should be remembered that no great artistic
mind, including the poet Pindar, ever concerned himself more with
following rules than bringing into being the art he wished to create.
Messiaen was, after all, not writing poetry but music, and he was bound
to let the characteristic nature and limitations of his own art guide
his use of content, regardless of what extra musical source may have
inspired him.
Works
Cited
Books:
Crotty, Kevin. Song & Action: The Victory Odes of Pindar.
Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982.
Johnson, Robert Sherlaw. Messiaen. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1975.
Hill, Peter, ed. The Messiaen Companion. Portland, OR: Amadeus Press,
1995.
Lattimore, Richmond (tr). The Odes of Pindar. Chicago: Universitry of
Chicago Press, 1947.
Messiaen, Olivier. Catalogue d’Oiseaux pour piano. Paris: Leduc, 1960.
Messiaen, Olivier. Chronochromie pour grand orchestre. Paris: Leduc,
1963.
Messiaen, Olivier. Technique de mon langage musicale. Paris: Leduc,
1956.
Messiaen, Olivier. Traité de rythme, couleur, et d’ornithologie.
Vol III, ChIIA: Analyse de <<Chronochromie>> pour
orchestre. Paris: Leduc, 1949-1992.
Mullen, William. Chorieia: Pindar & Dance. New Jersey: Princeton
University Press, 1982.
Samuel, Claude. Conversations with Olivier Messiaen. tr. Felix
Aprahamian. Stainer & Bell: London, 1976.
Willcock, M.M. Pindar Victory Odes, New York: Cambridge University
Press, 1995.
Internet:
Annis, William S. “Introduction to Greek Meter”
http://www.aoidoi.org/articles/meter/intro.pdf. January 2006, Google.
28 November 2006.
<<http://72.14.209.104/search?q=cache:YQjb2kRdvugJ:www.aoidoi.org/articles/meter/intro.pdf+
greek+meter&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=1&client=firefox-a>>
Golston, Chris and Riad, Thomas. “The phonology of Classical Greek
meter” 14 December 1998, revised 27 July 1999, California State
University Fresno & Stockholm University. 28 November 2006.
<<http://72.14.209.104/search?q=cache:d7RjBt2kYQwJ:zimmer.csufresno.edu/~chrisg/index_file
s/GreekMeter.pdf+greek+meter&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=2&client=firefox-a>>
Andrew Shenton, ed. “Messiaen’s chronological works list” Boston
University Messiaen Project. 25 November 2006.
<<http://oliviermessiaen.net/lifeandworks/music/bydate.html>>
“Ode”. Poet’s Graves Glossary of Poetic Terms:
<<http://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/glossary_poetic_terms_o.htm>>
Other Media:
Messiaen, Olivier. Catalogue d’Oiseaux, Le Fauvette des Jardins pour
piano. Yvonne Loriod. Erato, 1971-3.
Messiaen, Olivier. Chronochromie pour grand orchestre. Musique de Notre
Temps. Manuel Rosenthal, cond. Disques Ades, 1988.
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