By late November, we could be in the midst of a general election, recovering from a snap election or even (please the gods) at the start of a second indyref. So, it's crazy to plan ahead - right? But between Nov 29-Dec 1 I'll be at the Festival of Sibelius performed by the fabulous Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra (pic left © Guido Pijper) - come what may. I'm no classical music expert, but from the first time I heard Finlandia by Jean Sibelius I was completely hooked, soothed, reassured and stirred all at once and felt I somehow understood the musical sentiments of a man from another northern country. A cycling trip round the Aland Islands - owned by Finland but actually closer to Sweden - made me appreciate the massive differences between flat, mostly land-locked, semi-Arctic, forest-covered Finland and mountainous, sea-fringed, moor-covered Scotland. The emotional value attached to land also seems greater in Finland than quasi-feudal Scotland. The Finns doggedly fought two wars against WW2 Russian land grabs and the relatively equal nature of land ownership in Finland meant that all incomes rose after independence, (not just the bank balances of a few Dukes) when the wood-pulp industry took off, and Finnish cooperatives started supplying the raw material to almost every newspaper in Europe.
Can you hear any of that in Sibelius epic, stirring, elemental music? Probably not. But I hear an easy familiarity with the rhythms of nature - the awesome force of wind, ice and snow as well as the private, little idiosyncratic sounds of the forest. It's as if nature has come alive and the composer is simply recording it. That intimate proximity is still something that eludes most urban Scots, methinks. Reading a bit about Sami and Finnish beliefs and the reverence they accord trees, Sibelius' music also seems to narrate and embody the powerful folk myths of his people.
The back-story to Finlandia is fascinating. The following comes from an excellent article by Danny Riley at the Bachtrack website. In 1899, while Finland was occupied by Russia, Sibelius was asked to compose some music for (officially) a fundraiser for newspaper workers' pensions, but its real purpose was to help finance a Finnish free press. Sibelius created a set of seven musical tableaux depicting momentous occasions in his country’s history. Starting in the mists of Finnish legend with the Kalevala-inspired “Song of Väinämöinen”, the piece moved through musical depictions of events such as the introduction of Christianity to Finland, the Thirty Years’ War and a Russian invasion of 1714. The work ended with the rousing “Finland Awakes” – an optimistic look towards the country’s future. This finale was so well-received that Sibelius revised it as a standalone piece the following year with the title Finlandia. The piece had to be performed under politically inoffensive pseudonyms to avoid Russian censorship including “Happy feelings at the awakening of Finnish Spring”, “A Scandinavian Choral March” and even “Impromptu”.
Years later, when the Finnish parliament declared independence from Russia in December 1917, Sibelius said; “We fought 600 years for our freedom and I am part of the generation which achieved it. Freedom! My Finlandia is the story of this fight. It is the song of our battle, our hymn of victory.”
Whatever your politics, there's nothing more comforting in the darkness of winter, than the rich sounds of Sibelius - and no other place in Europe to hear nine fabulous works by Sibelius in one weekend. The Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra held the first part of its Festival in May - these November/December dates constitute the second half. Here's a wee sample of what's to come with more info and how to book tickets here. If you've never been to Rotterdam, it's a great, breezy contrast to Amsterdam - new and old architecture, industrial and stunning civic buildings plus canals and Europe's biggest port all co-existing happily. I made a wee podcast about the city with Chris Smith (complete with images) back in 2011.
