It was only a few weeks ago that i was exploring music that took its inspirational origin from grandparental reminiscences. Then, the subject matter was dead fishermen, whereas this time it’s … cows. That might not seem a particularly promising starting point for a new song cycle, and yet Laulut maaseudulta [Songs from the Countryside] by Finnish composer Lara Poe was far and away the most stunning contemporary work performed at this year’s Proms.
The work began from a conversation Poe had with her grandmother, Heljä Hakosalo, much of which focused on her livestock. Poe condensed this conversation into pithy texts suitable for setting, alongside others created in collaboration with Minna Hakosalo (Heljä’s daughter, Poe’s aunt). Poe sets up the work via a short introduction, which establishes a number of elements relevant later. The most significant of these is vocalise, the soprano’s wordless filigree finding a context in another key element, opulence, surrounded by a dreamy soundscape. This is mixed with allusions to kulning, the Nordic practice of song-calling to animals, bestowing the vocalise with folk connotations. A falling fourth is prominent here, and the sense of happiness and simplicity is given a cheerful kick in a wild upward glissando. All signs of what’s to come.
Having introduced the cows, they’re explored extensively in the second and third songs. In ‘Lehmät’ [cows], Poe establishes another key aspect of the work overall, in which we feel momentum coursing through the music yet with a free-wheeling pulse, such that the material rarely feels tied to it. It’s a loving portrait of the cows, coloured by playful solo wind responses (and a brief, cheeky appearance of a flexatone), with a disarmingly intense tutti burst from the orchestra halfway through. While it seems like an integral part of the song’s ebullient joy, it’s nonetheless sufficiently powerful and edgy that it feels momentarily unsettling. Poe doesn’t pursue this, though, making the soprano as florid as birdsong and concluding with calm but bristling music, sounding nothing less than ecstatic.
The textual tone tilts somewhat in ‘Hankalat yksilöt’ [difficult individuals], the longest of the songs, which recounts how certain members of the livestock were problematic in various ways. However, Poe keeps the musical tone stable at this stage, continuing the dreamy atmosphere, allowing in a bit of wistfulness, echoes of the falling fourth, and a nice ecstatic sequence where the untempered tones of a natural horn emerge over hovering strings. The orchestra acts to support, and gently illustrate, the animals’ exploits and temperaments, rushing, tumbling and twiddling. Yet lyricism remains paramount, becoming particularly impassioned halfway through, leading to the soprano, heightened and energised, becoming almost breathless in her delivery. These reach their literal zenith in a number of extremely high notes as if she were caught up in rapture by the act of reminiscing, connecting directly back to the affection articulated in the previous song.
Not surprisingly, it turns out Laulut maaseudulta isn’t just about cows. Everything changes in the second half of the work, which we reach by passing through the brief but potent central song ‘Myrsky’ [storm]. Solemn basses are echoed by the soprano, whose quietness sounds somewhat fraught. For the first time in the work, there’s a significant change in attitude, and while the orchestra initially keeps their obvious turbulence discreet, they swiftly grow and expand, the soprano becomes wild, and we arrive in a complex, rich, intense climax with pounding timpani, all profoundingly disquieting considering where we’ve come from. The opening lines of the song sum it all up: “The light is quite black, darker than night”.
There’s excitement implied here, at the coming of the “The first storm of the autumn!”, yet the musical shift is a profound one, which Poe deepens in the following two songs. ‘Hevoset’ [horses] switches not only to a different kind of livestock, but more importantly to the trauma they experienced during World War II, in the wake of air raids and explosions. A faint militaristic quality infiltrates the music, the orchestra less calm than poised, the soloist lyrical but halting, as if no-one is quite sure how best to proceed. The soprano’s enthusiasm has drained away, to be replaced with a different kind of zealous intensity that has a distinct undertone of anger. The tension is extremely palpable here, perhaps fuelled by a desire to let rip, though despite getting exercised again, Poe maintains the tension, concluding in a lovely but off-kilter passage where high string streaks fleck an uncertain sky.
Throughout ‘Hevoset’ the notion that this isn’t simply music about animals is prevalent, and this is born out in ‘Karjalaiset’ [Karelians], the sixth song and, at a mere 2½ minutes, the shortest in the cycle. The words refer to both refugees fleeing Karelia following the Soviet invasion and their livestock, recounting the problems they all faced due to their displacement. A folk lyricality here melds into microtonal winds, and a vague soundworld of harp and strings. This feels like music in the wake of what was discussed in the preceding song, now dazed and rather disoriented, though given direction by the soprano who has by now shaken off uncertainty and, buoyed up by the folk allusions, sings with understated confidence again. Rather deftly Poe takes us to a place that’s an amalgam of the glittery dreamscape from the first half, now with a tremulous tension running through it, caught between worlds.
This tension isn’t resolved or dissipated in the short epilogue, ‘Metsä’ [forest]. Instead, soprano and orchestra together make steady progress, very slow, very high, all very mesmerising. The text states that “Now it is finished”, closing with the words “Quietly, peacefully”, but there’s more to it than that. It’s a strange ending, definitely infused with something of the earlier ecstasy and opulence yet not remotely relaxed, with hints of pressure applied to it, part rest, part relief.
Laulut maaseudulta is a dazzling work, celebrating the prosaic while enabling it to touch upon the profound. Its equally dazzling world première was given by soprano Anu Komsi (a genuinely incredible performance) with the combined forces of the Royal College of Music Symphony Orchestra and Sibelius Academy Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Sakari Oramo.
And that’s it for this year’s Proms. i used to liken listening to contemporary music at the Proms to panning for gold, but these days it’s more like wading chest-deep through a sewer in the hope that someone’s accidentally flushed diamond ring might float by. Implausibly, that happened a handful of times this year, but is it even remotely adequate? Should we honestly feel grateful? One can only hope the mysterious shadowy decision-makers at the BBC decide to abandon their long-standing shitocratic oaths, open their minds to the genuinely insightful, challenging, original, provocative and, let’s face it, new musical minds out there, and allow the Proms to return to featuring the actual best of what’s going on in contemporary composition today.
Text
I. Aloitus
Mustike, tule,
Mansike, Pähkinä, tule,
Lölli, Ruusu, tule!
Tule, tule!
I. Introduction
Mustike, come,
Mansike, Pähkinä, come,
Lölli, Ruusu, come!
Come, come!
II. Lehmät
Mustike oli johtajalehmä. Se oli mustavalkoinen; muut oli ruskeavalkoisia. Mustike oli isokokoisin ja sisukas. Se oli kellokas. Sillä oli kello kaulassa. Mustike oli oikein semmoinen mahtava lehmä.
Mansike oli tavallinen lehmä; se kulki siellä muitten
kanssa.
Pähkinä oli vanhempi, entinen johtaja. Naama oli
melkein valkoinen, mutta silmän ympärykset ruskeat,
melkein kuin naamarit. Ja oli vähän käyrät,
kiemurtelevat sarvet.
Lölli oli aika iso lehmä, hyvä lypsämään. Se oli aika
valkea, ja siinä oli aika vähän ruskeita läiskiä. Vissiin
joku lapsi oli antanut sille sen nimen.
Ruusu oli aivan tavallinen, ruskeavalkoinen niin kuin
ne on. Ja sit Usva oli myös aika tavallinen, myös
Rusina.
II. Cows
Mustike was the leader cow. She was black and white; the others were brown and white. Mustike was the largest and she was stubborn and persistent. She was the bellwether. She had a bell around her neck. Mustike was quite the majestic
cow.
Mansike was an ordinary cow; she wandered where the rest of the herd went.
Pähkinä was older, and the former leader. Her face was nearly white, but had brown circles around her eyes, almost as a mask. And she had somewhat curved, curling horns.
Lölli was quite a big cow, and was good for milking. She was very light coloured, and only had a few brown spots. Probably a child gave her that name.
Ruusu was quite ordinary, brown and white like they are. And Usva was also quite ordinary, also Rusina.
III. Hankalat yksilöt
Aada oli ruotsalainen lehmä ja tuli ruotsalaiselta
tilalta. Ja ei oikein sulautunut joukkoon. Se oli vähän
yksinäinen sielu. Sitä ei oikein hyväksytty laumaan.
Yksi eksyi, yksi lehmä eksyi vasikkana metsään. Se
pelästyi jotain ja meni suoraan piikkiaidan läpi! Sitten juoksi junaradan yli, ui yli joen, ja painalsi junaaseman taakse metsään. Ei saatu kiinni koko kesän, varmaan söi marjoja, ehkä kävi apilapelloilla. Syksyn tullen, se liittyi toiseen karjaan joka oli Espoon takana, Gumbölessä, ainakin kuuden kilometrin päässä. Sieltä ne soitti että teidän vasikkanne on täällä.
Ulla oli vähän hankala lehmä, ja aluksi vaikea alkaa
lypsämään. Vissiin potki, tai hännällä huiski. Se
yksikseen aina yhtäkkiä nosti päänsä, ja sitten se lähti! Silloin veljeksillä, Ekulla ja Matilla, tuli hommaa: niillä oli pieniä kivikasoja kun oli paimenissa, ja kun näki että Ulla oli lähtemässä, heitti kiven Ullan eteen.
Sitten se kääntyi eikä lähtenyt.
Hely, Heluna, ja Rusko, ne ruskeat vasut. Ne oli aina
karjan mukana ja yritti sitten karata! Meni naapurien
laitumille, syömään apilaa ja kaikkea. Mä luulen että
niitä viehätti lähteä reissuun. Ja sitten kun oli tavalliset aidat, ne jotenkin karkas vaikka oli piikkilankaan. Ja sitten tuli sähköpaimen: jos lehmä tuli aidalle ja koski määrätyllä korkeudella, sai pienen sähköiskun. Mutta ruskeat vasut meni siitä alta. Ne hoksas sen!
Myös Hertta oli siellä – väritykseltään melkein kuin
Hely, muttei niin selvästi. Etupäässä lempeä, ei
erityisen vaikea, toisin kuin jotkut yksilöt…
III. Difficult individuals
Aada was a Swedish cow and came from a Swedish farm. She didn’t quite fit in with the rest. She was a bit of a loner. She wasn’t really accepted into the herd.
One of the cows ran off into the forest as a calf. She was frightened by something and ran straight through the barbed wire fence! Then ran across the train tracks, swam across the river, and pressed on behind the railway station into the forest. When autumn came, she joined another herd of cattle
behind Espoo, in Gumböle, at least six kilometers away. From there, they called that your calf has been found here.
Ulla was a bit of a difficult cow, and initially quite difficult to milk. I guess she kicked or swatted with her tail. She would suddenly lift up her head, and then she’d run off! Then my brothers, Eku and Matti, had their work cut out for them: they had little piles of stones when they were shepherding, and when they saw Ulla was about to leave, they’d throw a small rock in front of her. Then she’d turn back and wouldn’t run off.
Hely, Heluna, and Rusko, the brown calves. They were always with the herd and then would try to escape! They’d go to the neighbours’ fields, and eat clover and whatnot. I think they enjoyed the adventure of exploring. And when we had normal fences, they’d run off even if there was barbed wire. Then we got a partially electrified fence: if a cow came and touched the fence at a certain height, they’d get a small electric shock. But the brown calves would go under the electrified area. They figured it out!
Hertta was also there – in terms of coloring she looked a bit like Hely, but not as clearly. Mostly sweet, not particularly difficult, as opposed to certain individuals…
IV. Myrsky
Valo on varsin mustaa,
yötäkin pimeämpää;
kaukana kumisee tuuli.
Metsä odottaa,
Latvat laskeutuvat
Nyt, nyt se tulee:
Syksyn ensimmäinen myrsky!
Mikä odotettu ilo!
Nyt saa humista ja huutaa!
IV. The Storm
The light is quite black,
darker than night;
far away, the wind whistles.
The forest awaits,
the branches settle down.
Now, now it comes:
The first storm of the autumn!
How we have awaited this!
Now we can hum and shout!
V. Hevoset
Oli myös hevosia, suomenhevosia. Ympyrä oli ollut sodassa: se johdatti muut perunakellariin kun kuuli lentokoneen. Kattoi, että pitää suojautua: jos maantiellä ajeli ja oli kuorma, ja meni lentokone, se halusi painaltaa heti ojan yli metsään, oli sillä kärryt takana tai ei. Silloinhan oli metsiä joka paikka täynnä.
Piirto oli kans ollut sodassa, eikä suostunut ylittämään siltoja. Jos tuli silta, se pysähtyi siihen. Sillathan sodassa räjähteli. Niin hän aatteli että tästä ei mennä. Kyllä ton ymmärtää, mutta menee vähän hankalaksi. Oli aika turha lähteä esimerkiksi joen toisella puolella.
V. Horses
There were also horses, Finnhorses. Ympyrä (Circle) had been in the war: he would lead the others into the potato cellar when he heard an airplane overhead. He thought that he needed to take shelter: if he was on the road and heard an airplane, he would try and run off into the forest, over the ditch on the side of the road, regardless of whether or not he was pulling a cart or sled behind him. Back then, everywhere was filled with forests.
Piirto had also been in the war, and she refused to go over bridges. If she came across a bridge, she would stop right there. In the war, bridges would often explode. So she thought it was not safe to cross. This is understandable, but it made life difficult. It was pointless to try and go, for instance, to the other side of the river.
VI. Karjalaiset
Karjalasta tuli porukkaa evakkoon, ja niiden mukana tuli yksi karja. Meidän lehmät oli Ayrshire lehmiä, ja niiden oli nupopäitä. Nupopäät pidettiin erillään sarvipäistä tilapäisessä navetassa.
Lopulta ne karjalaiset saivat semmoisen lopullisen
paikan minne asettui ja veivät lehmänsä sinne. Mä
luulen että se oli jossain Pohjanmaalla, eli ne joutui
taas lähtemään jonnekin kauemmas.
VI. Karelians
A bunch of refugees fled Karelia, and they brought a herd of cows with them. Our cows were Ayrshire cows, and theirs were Eastern Finncattle. The Finncattle (who didn’t have horns) were kept separate from our cattle, in a different, temporary barn.
Finally, the Karelians were given a plot of land to settle on and they took their cattle there. I think it was somewhere in Central Osthrobothnia, so they had to leave again and go somewhere much further away.
VII. Metsä
Nyt se on loppu.
Nyt on tuuli poistunut puista,
Kuin metsän pohja.
Väsyneet latvukset
Hiljaa ja rauhalliset.
VII. Forest
Now it is finished.
Now the wind has quieted down from the trees,
As the forest bed.
Tired branches drape down,
Quietly, peacefully.
