Alan Rawsthorne (1905-1971) was an English composer known for his finely structured orchestral and chamber music. Born in Haslingden, Lancashire, he initially pursued dentistry and architecture before committing to music. He studied at the Royal Manchester College of Music and with Egon Petri in Berlin. His early success came with Theme and Variations for Two Violins (1938) and Symphonic Studies (1939). Rawsthorne's music is characterized by its contrapuntal texture, rhythmic vitality, and melodic fluidity. Notable works include two violin concertos, a cello concerto, and an oboe concerto. He also composed for film and received several honours, including a CBE in 1961.
The following essay was published in Musical America, (February 1952, pp. 19, 165, 166). Included are a few brief footnotes.
That queer wraith, the ghost called “modern music,” still continues to visit our concert halls. It is said by novelists and other wise men that those who live in haunted houses become used to their misty companions and even come to love them. And, after all, the “modern music” spectre has been haunting us long enough by now: at nearly fifty years of age, it is a familiar, respectable ghost. Yet it still seems to scare certain concertgoers as it suddenly rears up its “queer noises” (that is what Ralph Vaughan Williams once called modern harmonies) in our concerts.
The frisson of horror might be understandable, even excusable, in those whose adolescence ended, say, with the death of Brahms; but those of the next generation who persist in regarding the early Stravinsky ballets as eccentric freaks of modernity have little to be said on their side. The curiosity - explicable perhaps because of the native conservatism of academic institutions - is that this business of so-called cacophony has such odd effects on the young. Some take to it as their natural element, like ducks to water; some, on the other hand, are more frightened of a discord than they are of breaking the Ten Commandments.
Of middle-life composers writing music today, Alan Rawsthorne by his very robustness blows away all shadowy fears. The firmness of his voice exorcises once and for all the ghost of “modern music.” For, not by theory but by nature, Alan Rawsthorne writes music in the idiom of his day. He expresses himself plainly in the language of 1950 - not in its argot or cheap wisecracks, but in the fine language it has by now developed. This fact seems to me to be his first (though I would not say his greatest) recommendation to listeners of today.
In clothes, women do not seek old fashions but new; we do not expect our novelists to write like Fielding or Hawthorne or Meredith. And I for one have always been at a loss to understand those critics and non-critical music-lovers who ask a composer to use any idiom save that in which he naturally, as a living composer, wants to think. I find nothing more distressing than a composer who makes me feel he is imitating a style of a past age in order to persuade the public to listen to his music. Ours, I grant you, is no pretty century; its face is scarred with wars, pock-marked with political disturbances, and twisted with constant aching fears. That is no reason for demanding that a composer of 1952 should write as if he lived at any moment save in 1952; we have no right to command, or even expect, of him that he should write in the style and idiom of 1852, 1752, 1652, 1552, or for that, 1452. The choice is not ours.
The rise of Alan Rawsthorne from obscurity to a position in the first rank of younger contemporary composers has been swift but sure-footed. He first attracted attention in London in 1936 or so - some sixteen years only on the ladder of fame, seven of which were occupied by war. [1] The upward progress has been the more remarkable because Rawsthorne has so far written no spectacular work - no opera like Peter Grimes to act as a focusing point, no ballet like Constant Lambert’s Horoscope. [2] He has written “absolute” (or symphonic) music. Of all his works only two overtures (Cortéges and Street Corner) and a book of piano duets (The Creel) bear titles; the rest are called simply symphony, concerto, quartet, and so on. But the range is wide: from the Theme and Variations for Two Violins (1937) to the Symphony (1950) and the Second Piano Concerto (1951).
It is of some significance that the birthplace of Alan Rawsthorne (in 1905) was in Lancashire. [3]. As a general rule the language of all northern peoples is more direct than that of the southern - more terse in idiom, more consonantal, epigrammatic rather than expansively expressive. The point is true beyond doubt within the narrow limits of the British Isles. The Lancashire and Yorkshire people are notoriously more outspoken, less wordy, more inclined to blunt truth rather than polite periphrasis than their brothers and sisters of Hampshire, Devonshire, and other counties of the south and west of England. Rawsthorne took to music only after the pursuit of other studies, and it was not until his early twenties that he entered the Royal Manchester College of Music. Leaving there in 1930, he went abroad to study piano (and no doubt that larger subject “music”) with Busoni’s pupil Egon Petri. [4] From 1932-34 he was professionally employed at that American educational and experimental centre, Dartington Hall, South Devon. [5] In 1935 he came to London.
On no less than four occasions has Rawsthorne’s music been selected by the jury for performance at the annual festivals of the International Society for Contemporary Music: London, 1934, Theme and Variations for Two Violins; Warsaw, 1939, Symphonic Studies: London, 1946, Cortéges; Brussels, [and] 1950, Concerto for String Orchestra. The several selecting juries being drawn from various countries, we can observe that Rawsthorne’s is no local talent. His music is of international appeal; as one says of certain wines, “it travels well.” His name is not unfamiliar in the United States (see the Musical Quarterly, April 1949, p.305ff) [6] and performances of his works have been given in most countries of Europe (especially in Holland), in South Africa, Australia and Canada, and even in Tunis and Algiers.
Despite the interruption of army service [7] and the emotional disturbances of enemy air raids, the composer’s output is considerable. A glance at his list of writings reveals a curious paucity of small works - only three songs, a couple of minor piano pieces. On the other hand, there are five concertos - for violin (1948), pianoforte (two, 1942 and 1951), clarinet (1936), and oboe (1947). The Symphonic Studies (1939), although quite independent, may be called a herald to the Symphony (1950); the Concerto for Strings and the two overtures complete the orchestral list, but in chamber music there are (apart from the two-violin work ) a String Quartet (theme and variations) (1939), a Clarinet Quartet (1948), a Cello and Piano Sonata (1949), and a Piano Sonatina of the same year. It is thought that Rawsthorne is now turning his mind towards the composition of a second-string quartet. [8]
Not because of their size but because of their maturity, Rawsthorne’s Violin Concerto, Symphony, and Second Piano Concerto are his most important productions up to the present. But before we cast a more penetrating eye on these works, it may be as well to examine, in a broad and rough way, the qualities that lie beneath this composer’s indubitable power of abstract musical thought.
From this procession of sounds, four figures (as it were) detach themselves and strike the eye and ear by their recurrence. Let us imagine them as characters in an ancient mystery or miracle play, or in a new Pilgrim’s Progress.
First comes straight-spokenness; I do not mean the cultivated austerity of Holst or the epigrammatic style of Grieg or Wolf. Rawsthorne says his say, without flummery or padding. There is neither strutting nor attitudinizing. Next comes a figure of warmer colours and softer outlines - the emotional character who can feel as well as think. Along with him comes a third; he is one who wishes to sing but carries with him an armful of instruments. He is lyrical, but he cannot pour out his song without a pipe - his voice is not attuned to it. The concertos show that the lyrical Rawsthorne is an instrumental thinker. Lastly, we can observe an odder figure, dressed in motley. He is Fantasy (twin brother to Humour), and he laughs in the most unexpected places. We must go carefully with our new friend, especially in his more solemn moments, lest he be laughing against and not with us. We must be frightened by his occasional outbursts into poetry.
Notes:
[1] Possibly with his Overture
for chamber orchestra (1936) or his Sonatina for Flute, Oboe and Piano.
[2] Foss would [probably] change
his mind at this point if he had heard the Madame Chrysanthéme ballet,
dating from 1955, three years after this essay was written.
[3] To be precise, Deardengate
House, Haslingden, Lancashire, on 2 May 1905.
[4] Egon Petri (1881-1962) was a Dutch American pianist, renowned
for his interpretations of Bach, Liszt, and Beethoven, and a prominent teacher
influencing many pianists.
[5] Dartington Hall, located in
Devon, England, is an impressive estate known for its 14th-century manor and
gardens. It serves as a cultural hub, hosting arts, education, and social
justice initiatives. The estate is also home to the Dartington International
Summer School and many innovative community projects.
[6] The Musical Quarterly,
established in the United States in 1915, is a prominent academic journal
covering musicology, music history, and theory. It publishes articles, reviews,
and original research by leading scholars, exploring a diverse range of music
topics from different periods and cultures, fostering scholarly discourse and
advancements in the field of music. It is now published by Oxford University
Press.
[7] Rawsthorne served in the Army
first in the Royal Artillery and then in the Education Corps.
[8] The String Quartet was
completed during December 1953, and was premiered on 12 July 1954, by the Griller
Quartet at Cheltenham Town Hall.
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