When Dark and Glowing Visions Come: The Magical Nightmares of Malcolm Arnold

Musical commentary by Mark Sebastian Jordan

I could be wrong.

Sir Malcolm Arnold, composer
Malcolm Arnold, near the time when he wrote his magical but volatile Symphony No. 5.

Perhaps the late English composer Sir Malcolm Arnold will never become a roaring mainstream success. After all, one has to go quite a ways away from normal to meet this stealthy populist’s real meanings. But I’ll say this: In forty years of listening to classical music, I’ve called numerous trends before they hit.

I knew Mahler would become central to the mainstream years before it happened.

I knew Shostakovich would become the new Mahler as realization hit listeners that this was a profound artist saying complex things.

I also predicted that Brahms would slide in the pantheon, as he has. While still a great composer, his recipe for plush, introspective comfort misses the mark in a violent, technologically spasmodic world.

But there is a composer, already passed, who had his nervous finger on the pulse of what was to come in our increasingly dysfunctional world, and it was because he was so dysfunctional himself. His name was Malcolm Arnold. Precocious and staggeringly gifted, Arnold played and wrote music from childhood, and found himself appointed principal trumpet of the London Philharmonic in his early twenties.

At the same time, he was writing music and getting his foot in the door of the world of film. Writing film scores made it possible for Arnold to leave his day job in the orchestra and devote himself to composing. He ended up writing the music for over a hundred films, winning an Oscar for his score to The Bridge on the River Kwai. His extraordinary level of energy allowed Arnold to also compose numerous concert works, ballet scores, band music, and chamber music.

Bridge on the River Kwai
Malcolm Arnold received an Oscar for his brilliant score to the film “Bridge on the River Kwai.”

It sounds like the ultimate composing success story. Why wasn’t it?

Walt, Gus, & the Shimmering Black Elephant

 

          An essay by Mark Sebastian Jordan.

 

Fuck me.

Not in a bad way. In a just-got-laid-out-flat by the energy of the universe way.

Every once in a great, rare while, you hear exactly the right piece of music in exactly the right performance at exactly the right time in your life. And it will shake you.

For me, it happened tonight, October 5, 2017, in Severance Hall, when I heard the Cleveland Orchestra and conductor Franz Welser-Möst own Mahler’s Sixth. It immediately lept to my short list of greatest concert experiences, ever.

Why the piece matters and why this concert matters goes back a ways. It’s not performed all that often, glittering black beast that it is. Not only is this symphony fiendishly difficult, it’s also long—about 80 minutes—and ends darkly after tumultuous struggle. Not exactly a crowd-pleaser, it would seem, yet the piece is beloved by many, because it is a powerful emotional statement.

About what?

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