Claude Vivier
I can't remember how I discovered Claude Vivier but it might have been through the Darmstadt composers. Or maybe it was… - let's just get started, shall we?
Lonely Child
Lonely Child begins with a loud bass drum thud accompanied by the ring of the rin, a Japanese percussion instrument. We must now wait thirteen beats at 72 beats per minute for the melody to enter. When it does, the simple two-note melody is elevated by its unpredictable rhythm and, after landing on an A, it is then coated by an F♮ followed by an F#. As the opening melody explores different rhythms and different collections of pitches, the rin chimes intermittently, perhaps to conclude the melodic lines, perhaps to allow them to breathe, or perhaps to ground the listener in the present.
The rin sounds again and after 8 beats the voice enters, supported by a pianissimo, yet monolithic, 14-note harmony. Its subtle microtonal inflexions contribute to an otherworldly atmosphere, almost creating the illusion that the melody comes from another planet. These spectral textures are created by Vivier's use of "ring modulation". As the vocal line comes to an end, it is overtaken by cascading entries outlining the overtone series.
A brief chiming of the rin and a strike of the bass drum prepare us for the next section. If the previous harmony was monolithic, the new underlying 27-note harmony is gargantuan. So far, the text of Lonely Child has been in French, but we are now hearing an invented language created by Vivier. As this alien language is being sung, we wonder whether we may be experiencing something we shouldn't be, something incomprehensible; sounds not meant for human ears. The first words of Schönberg's Moses und Aron come to mind: "einziger, ewiger, allgegenwärtiger, unsichtbarer und unvorstellbarer", but without the "Gott" at the end, of course. I've always found that those adjectives paint such a powerful and terrifying picture of the cosmos and they seem to suit Vivier's music rather well (yes, I have repurposed them for my own interpretation). As for the music, right now the pulse is vaguely discernible but we can't quite anchor ourselves to it; the gong strikes further disorient us, and the never-ending melody appears to be reaching for the very edges of time and space.
The rin and bass drum grant us a moment, once more. Next, a web of glissandi accompany the voice's hurried recitation, which scurries to end before the bass drum is struck again.
With the bass drum's first thump, a countdown now begins, from 10 beats per bar all the way down to 0, to the chime of the rin. The next section has a delicate, ethereal quality to it: the voice is more composed and not as restless, and the palpitating pulse appears to have settled, yet the voice still glides infinitely. Despite being in an invented language, we are now hearing the word "Tazio", likely a reference to Thomas Mann's Death in Venice; a book which I'm afraid to say I did not like (but let's focus on the music!).
Now it is the tam-tam that leads us to the next section. As the piece begins to wind down, we are once again treated to an overtone series by the cello, succeeded by a return to the opening melody. Accompanying cascades of glissandi sound as echoes of what has come before and, as if it had all been a dream, we are back at the beginning, awoken by the chime of the rin, transfigured by the music.
Cosmic and autobiographical mystery enshrines Lonely Child, which Vivier described as a "long song of solitude"; arguably his masterpiece.
Bouchara
It is difficult not to associate Bouchara with Lonely Child because of their common musical language and structure. Vivier, however, described it as a "chanson d'amour", which may come as a surprise to some given the wicked chord that sounds after ~2 minutes (the exact time will depend on the recording, obviously). The texture that follows is very much reminiscent of Lonely Child, possibly even more refined.
The modulation at rehearsal mark 9 (~3:25) - when the voice holds that D# - is devastating, and it is these "little moments", mere seconds, that often stay with you long after a piece has ended.
Despite the glaring similarities between the two works, Bouchara deserves its own praise, and Vivier showcases absolute mastery of his own idiomatic writing.
Pulau Dewata
“Island of the Gods” - maybe one of the greatest titles in the history of music! Pulau Dewata is written for unspecified instrumentation, although my favorite recordings are with percussion due to the strong gamelan evocations.
Zipangu
Zipangu is an incredible work for string orchestra exploring a variety of playing techniques. You will no doubt recognize the 3-note melody from Lonely Child. However, Vivier takes it in a completely different direction before any concerns of unoriginality can materialize. It is such a simple-yet-strong melody that we are able to discern it clearly even from the dense textures that will follow.
Prologue pour un Marco Polo
By this point the characteristic Vivier major 3rd interval is ingrained in our ears and it receives an explosive treatment in Prologue. There are moments that are reminiscent of Lonely Child but there is no denying that Vivier succeeded in discovering new a sound world. It is no surprise that Ligeti considered this to be one of Vivier's best works.
Musik für das Ende
There's something about how this piece unfolds that grips you, and it seemingly whispers to you that das Ende - sorry, I mean the ending - will be purifying.
Musik is a beautiful, haunting, ritualistic composition and its aleatoric nature makes it all that more eerie. Nevertheless, "stricter" moments shine through, with the most poignant - a winding melody - emerging shortly before 17:00. Hints of this melody can be heard throughout the piece, and other entries to listen out for include the one at 18:45 and also at ~19:20. With only ~5 minutes to go, Vivier introduces a lonely voice, perhaps destined to remain solitary, asking "Wer bin ich? Woher komme ich? Wohin gehe ich?", and the piece ends.
Some years ago I was fortunate to hear both Lonely Child and Musik für das Ende in London. As Lonely Child is one of my favourite pieces ever I was incredibly excited, but it was the performance of Musik that stole my heart. I think it was by a Canadian group called Soundstreams, and if my memory serves me rightly they premiered a new work (sadly I don't remember the composer's name) acting as a prelude to Musik, which then transitioned seamlessly into Vivier's piece. If I'm also not misremembering, in the concert, the lonely voice at the end was assigned to a young boy who was asking those questions in French rather than in German.
As great as the recordings are, Musik is a piece to experience live.
Chants
If Musik has piqued your interest, you may enjoy Chants: another vocal piece also inspired by the subject of death, although perhaps less brooding.
Journal
Journal was written some years after Musik and Chants and, whilst the three works share obvious similarities, the writing does seem more mature in Journal. As captivating as this large-scale work is however, I do wonder whether Musik's shorter duration renders it more effective.
Greeting Music
Greeting Music is another piece that could be likened to Musik and Chants, not because of its instrumentation (there are no voices), but because of its mostly serious mood (I say mostly because the cellist is instructed to laugh about two thirds of the way through…). The lack of urgency in the composition is offset by its quasi-ceremonial melodic lines.
Siddhartha
The first two minutes of Siddhartha are so utterly mesmerizing that it is almost cruel of Vivier not to return to that electric writing more often. Cruel!
Orion
A fun orchestral piece that stands in stark contrast to Lonely Child. In between the chaotic walls of sound magical moments unfold, such as the violin and percussion duet at rehearsal mark 14 (~5:30) and the subsequent harmonic constellation at rehearsal mark 16 (~6:45), which leads the way into the latter, compelling half of Orion.
Glaubst du an die Unsterblichkeit der Seele?
I couldn't not mention this piece given the tragic circumstances of Vivier's death. Below is a redacted version of the narrator's text:
[…] Sitting on my bench I had the impression that something would happen to me that day, something essential to my life. It was then that my eyes […] fell upon a young man with a strange, upsetting magnetism. […] Then […] he took from his dark black jacket […] a dagger, and struck it straight into my heart.
The protagonist of Glaubst survives the attack. Vivier, however, would be brutally murdered by a young man shortly after writing this text. It is impossible to separate Vivier's final unfinished work from the final moments of his life. Vivier was killed at the young age of 34 but left behind an incredible body of work that stands tall among the other 20th-century mavericks.
I think that's all I have. Oh wait! I recommend Bob Gilmore's book on Vivier: not only is it very thorough in detailing Vivier's life, but I also discovered many interesting composers through it (names that come to mind right now include Clarence Barlow, Kevin Volans and Péter Eötvös).