Dvořák, Symphony No. 8

It is the present writer’s opinion that in face of an ever expanding music industry, one aspect of music making should be regarded higher than all others: sincerity. When a piece of music is composed out of duty or obligation, the result is often an empty shell, devoid of real substance; it may be entertaining but not touching, impressive but not awe-inspiring. Contrarily, music composed out of a desire to express will be anything but an empty shell. Dvořák’s 8^th symphony, for example, is an expression of freedom.

This is evident even in the 1^st movement, which is the most formal of the four. The themes are often switched between the major and minor modes and there are a number of unorthodox chord progressions. The 2^nd movement is quite short and the opening is reminiscent of the slow movement from Schumann’s piano concerto, but the really interesting part comes after the clarinets bring the movement to a close by descending into the low registers and gradually fading out.

For all intended purposes this is the end of the movement but miraculously, the music doesn’t stop. It is as if Dvořák had so far been holding himself back from the audience by way of formality, but now he cannot bear it anymore and so, he throws away all the pretences and draws us into direct contact with him, sharing with us his innermost thoughts for the remainder of the movement and his love of dance in the 3^rd and 4^th movements. It is very rare to experience music of such sincerity and intimacy, not to mention the humility required to let the audience into his private world. Also in full display here is his delightful wit: in the trio section of the 3^rd movement, the accompaniment suggests a 7/4 metre but with the last beat being left out; then there is the curious ‘4^th movement’ which is over in the blink of an eye, because it is actually the coda of the 3^rd.

September 2012