Constantly shifting and elusive, water is at home in the language of sound. The “literature” of music overflows with plays of water, fountains of Rome, gardens in the rain, scenes at the stream, stormy seas. But before we launch ourselves into the restless waves of the 20th and 21st centuries let’s join romantic Smetana along the Moldava. Composed in 1874, the second in the cycle of six symphonic poems Ma Vlast follows the plot, with a clear formal structure. If we listen out for the “story line” we can easily catch the description of the two sources and the river slowly taking shape; there is the hunt in the forest, wedding dances, a moonlit night populated with fairies and distant memories; we come to the St. John falls, the majestic outlet onto the plain, all the way down to Prague and the Vyserhad castle. The balance is steady between colour and thematic development, skillfully played out using the modal ambiguity of the main motif.
There’s no lack of colour either in Fazil Say’s latest composition, which was heard for the very first time on 18 August 2013 at the Gstaad Festival, which commissioned the piece together with the Festival of Mecklenburg-Pomerania. Water is a sort of concerto for piano and orchestra, in three movements. It flows through three colours – from blue to black to green – in the hands of the soloist and the large orchestra, with a line-up of exotic percussion instruments, showing an eclectic ability to couple East and West, tradition and innovation.
A more alarming sea is the background to Peter Grimes, Britten’s opera composed in 1945. Four of the six symphonic interludes were presented as a concert in 1949, entitled Four Sea Interludes, and together with another interlude, Passacaglia, they form a powerful suite. The marine landscapes metaphorically illustrate moods and interior and exterior moments; the oppressive greyness of the first interlude and the persecutory obsession of the Passacaglia underline the protagonist’s tragedy.
Debussy is known for his mastery of impressionism and timbre, but in his three symphonic sketches, La Mer, composed between 1903 and 1905, his talent is most obvious is the rigorous construction. It lies hidden in the lines of the score, while the listener basks in the changing atmospheres of the sound, more allusive than realistic. In music, like the poetry of Nazim Hikmet, which Fazil Say loves, “the most beautiful sea is the one we never sailed”.

Marina Verzoletto