Antonin Dvorak
The merging of artistic and popular music: The Romantic, nationalist strains of Antonin Dvorak's Symphony No.5 in F Major, Op.76.
The 19th century manifested the beginnings of the current seismic divide between classical (or 'serious') art music and popular music. Pairing the image of a heavy metal head-banger against a Mozart-listening nerd is a common trope in American popular advertising and films. But in the "music world of the 18th century, when composers we now call classical were active -- Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, Haydn, Mozart… the concept of classical music didn't exist. Music wasn't considered a deeply serious art, and musical performances were mostly entertainment. Almost all the pieces played were new. People talked while the music played, and reacted loudly, clapping and cheering when they heard something they liked" (Sandow 2006). There was no hushed, reverential, and uncomfortable silence, as is characteristic of concert halls today, versus the raucous atmosphere of rock concerts.
In the 19th century this began to change. The music of concert halls became artistic, or what we came to call classical music. (Although the Classical period refers to a specific time in musical history, 'classical' has become a common term to characterize Romantic, Modern, and other varieties of serious orchestral music). The 19th century division manifested itself between the type of music heard in the streets, folk tunes, and music played in drawing rooms, versus music authored by composers for public display. However, not all musicians embraced this distinction. For example, the Czech composer Antonin Dvorak used the musical traditions of his Slavic people, and other native peoples, including American Indians and African-Americans, to create serious art. Dvorak's music manifests the resistance to the divide between popular and classical music today.
This is why one of the most striking aspects of the music of Antonin Dvorak to a modern listener is its tunefulness and clear melodic line. The Czech Dvorak styled himself as a musician in the Romantic, nationalist tradition of 19th century artists who embraced the 'folk' culture as purer in its pastoral simplicity than life in an urban environment. His music is both nostalgic and backward-looking, even while he also embraces the forward-looking nationalistic movements of his era, which strove to create independent national governments for ethnic identities within Europe's empire.
Of course, Dvorak is usually called a classical musician in today's vocabulary. But in his own era: "Dvorak was very purely and simply a man of the people, and a people's musician. The soil from which he sprang as an artist was that of the folksong and folk-dances of that robust and unadulterated kind still found in Bohemian villages -- and his home had been a village inn, we must remember. He was early imbued with a traditional spirit of musical handiwork by his first teachers, who combined the functions of choirmaster and of conductor of the local orchestra. The expansive and idyllic Bohemian landscape, the patriarchally simple and dignified life of the Czech people, the winged rhythms, gushing melodiousness and sensuous, effusive sound of Bohemian music: these were the things that formed Dvorak's artistic soul" (Hollander 313).
When attending a concert at the UC Davis Symphony Orchestra on November 22, 2009, conducted by Christian Baldini, I was initially surprised at the accessibility of Dvorak's Symphony No.5 in F Major, Op.76. However, upon doing research about Dvorak and learning about the philosophical orientation behind his works, I became far less surprised at how easy it was for me to appreciate the Symphony. Dvorak styled himself as a musician of his people, but unlike Richard Wagner, he sought to elevate the music of common folk in a way that could still be understood by ordinary listeners (Hollander 314). He wrote music to delight, not merely to challenge. Even Dvorak's most ambitious works are smaller and less epic than Wagner's. Perhaps his most famous work is a series of Slavonic Dances using the melodies of ordinary dances as high art. "His naively descriptive tone-painting, his forceful melodic invention, his retention of the forms of absolute music, all this shows that he remained true to himself as a master who took up his subject impulsively and simply swept aside the intellectual conception of programme music. Even in his symphonic poems what remains the decisive factor is pure music or -- let it be put boldly -- the absolutely musical element" (Hollander 315). Dvorak occasionally said he simply wished to convey the elemental feelings ordinary people for their native art and resented his musical project being used to serve politics: "But what have we two to do with politics? Let us be glad that we are privileged to serve our beautiful art alone" (Hollander 317).
Dvorak vacillated between the importance of politics in the context of art. At the time of the composition of Symphony No.5 in F Major, Op.76. "the composer was faced at that time with the tempting prospect of writing German operas for Dresden and Vienna -- offers that caused him serious misgivings, because if he responded he feared he would be betraying the Czech national cause" (Clapham 1961, p.105). But eventually he returned to the nationalist source of his original inspiration: "The main theme of the symphony was inspired by witnessing the arrival in Prague of an express train from Budapest" (Clapham 1961, p.107).
While it might be argued that Dvorak was presenting his somewhat sentimentalized version of the common people in his compositions, it should be stressed that at very least he believed that he was presenting an 'authentic' portrait of Czech ordinary life, that would still be recognizable to the people who produced the tunes. He composed for popular enjoyment as well as to educate his listeners about their heritage. Dvorak also said that he was looking for inspiration everywhere: "An American reporter once told me that the most valuable talent a journalist could possess was a 'nose for news'. Just so the musician must prick his ear for music. Nothing must be too low or too insignificant for the musician" said Dvorak (Clapham 1966, p.863).
However, the inspiration for Symphony No. 5, some say, was even more prosaic: "Symphony No. 5 owes its genesis to a fortuitous series of events in the composer's life. At age 32, his lady friend informed him that she was pregnant, and the two were hastily married; having poor financial prospects, Dvorak did what any penniless composer of today would do: he applied for a grant" (All Music Guide, 2009). The monetary rationale behind the Symphony is substantiated by its out-of-order numbering scheme, which was to confuse later chronicles of Dvorak's life: at the time, it was thought a higher number would sell more tickets to performances of the new work.
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