Footfalls of Giants

Of the five symphonies by Alfred Schnittke that I've heard so far, I am most struck by his Symphony No. 4, written in 1984. It consists of a single movement 45 minutes long. In it Schnittke, by a constantly changing variety of means starting from the very first note, works up eventually to a pair of truly tremendous, extended crescendos.

The first of these slambang ascents up the multitonal stairs is the most dramatic of the two.

At precisely 16 minutes into the music, an assortment of strings and horns starts warning us that it's time to get really serious and fasten our seatbelts, a la the great car chase scene in Steve McQueen's "Bullitt." A few minutes later we start hearing a phrase of four notes sounded by bells, and that takes the ascent to another level. The bells repeat their urgent message. over and over, though sometimes their notes are almost completely buried under those of the other instruments, against a background in which seemingly the whole orchestra eventually joins, creating a whirring sound that gradually swells in volume with a somewhat frantic air, while many other things are in the meantime going on. And through it all you feel that you can hear the footfalls of giants, treading majestically across the bridge of sound that Schnittke has so ingeniously constructed.

This passage is so full of beauty, tension, and excitement that, when I first heard it, I immediately feared that something this good would end too quickly. Instead it went on at such length that a very unusual thing happened. I was actually relieved when Schnittke finally let it fall apart, per one of his characteristic stylistic "tricks."

After that comes a short section for a solo piano and another for a lone singer -- obviously intended to give the rest of the exhausted orchestra a much needed-break ...and also a period in which they can savor their triumph in having brought off that crescendo so ...er...resoundingly.

Because I enjoy that part of the symphony so much, with each rehearing it gets shorter, and that regretful situation is only relieved when that crescendo is repeated later in the piece, briefer and with a little less extravagance in its orchestration.

To appreciate this symphony fully -- that is, to hear everything that Schnittke is dropping on us here -- it is absolutely essential, first, to hustle all the non-Schnittke people out of your house, and then to start playing the CD with the volume turned up loud. I mean really loud, cranking out as many db's as your speakers and your eardrums can stand!

You may remember that a decade or so ago a symphony by a Polish composer, Henryk Gorecki, Schnittke's senior by one year, became a runaway best-seller among the listening public. It was Gorecki's Symphony No. 3, "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs." It features some of the most beautiful soprano singing ever, along with long and profound cello lines.

I am overjoyed that a modern symphony became so incredibly popular. I just recently bought that, too, and heard it in full for the first time. No doubt about it. It's a wonderful symphony -- yet I think that Schnittke's Fourth is superior in nearly every respect ...IF you play it LOUD and let his giants stomp all over your head!

I was surprised and somewhat upset when, after I had begun to collect his symphonies, I learned that Alfred Schnittke is dead and that that sad and absolutely permanent state of affairs has been in effect for some time, since 1998. I didn't recall hearing about his departure, and I had assumed that he was still around and cranking out lots of good things.

Also I just recently found out that Schnittke actually wrote not eight but nine symphonies, but apparently he penned the 9th while in the throes of battling the effects of a stroke, the kind of malady that eventually took him out of here for good, and the symphony has been judged to be unplayable.

Is it possible that Schnittke brought his fatal illness on himself? It must've been a considerable strain on the plumbing in his head, to come up with such a staggering number of musical ideas and then to make them all hang together.

I am certain that sooner or later, maybe when Schnittke is "rediscovered," some enterprising young composer is going to find a way to fill in the cracks -- if necessary -- and bring the 9th and last to the concert hall. That was done with Mahler's unfinished 10th Symphony. Whether or not convincingly is another matter. I am no sort of a musicologist.

But I wonder whether, far from the 9th being unplayable, Schnittke, even in his sickbed, had merely and finally gotten too far out there for anyone to feel up to dealing with it right then, especially because he personally was too far gone to be of much help. When listening to his music you definitely have to open your ears, wider than in the Gorecki, but it's well worth it, and the music becomes more accessible each time, as you gradually learn his language.