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The Power of Program Music

Last Updated (Wednesday, 14 May 2008 11:32)
Written by John Manning
Sunday, 09 September 2007 02:15

Articles - Pedagogical articles

Tuba players know Respighi's tone poem Pines of Rome (Pini di Roma), and its much more difficult counterpart Fountains of Rome (Fontane di Roma). They are part of his "Roman Trilogy" along with Feste Romane. "Fountains" - as we have come to call it - is a finger-buster, full of complex rhythms, pedal E-naturals, and a wide-range requiring expert flexibility.

Today I was listening to a doctoral student at the University of Iowa play his audition list for an upcoming trumpet audition, and I noticed something on his part for Pines of Rome. I noticed that the title of the first movement is I pini di Villa Borghese (The Pines of the Villa Borghese). This movement musically depicts children at play in the pines of Villa Borghese, a park above the Spanish steps in Rome where I recently visited. I made a visit because a family from Texas had advised us to go and ride a "family bike". After several hot days of walking, and riding the buses and subway, the park was a welcome respite and provided and amazing view of Rome. And, we did get that ride.

Rome is an overwhelmingly fascinating city, crowded with massive and ornate structures and thousands of years of religious, artistic and cultural history. It is no wonder why Respighi was inspired. You cannot help but notice the fountains throughout the city, shining examples of Roman ingenuity and artistic taste. There is something to the pines too. I was intrigued by their appearance, since they have a very unique look - as if someone had pruned most of the branches except for those at the very top. These trees are known as "Umbrella Pines", or "Stone Pines". Their large canopies provide excellent shade, while the lack of lower limbs avoids obstructing the view. I now understand Respighi much more, and his music. Like all tone poems, these works convey a feeling of place, telling a story through the music. Why is it that one can easily imagine children playing upon hearing the lively dotted rhythms of the first movement? And why is it so easy to be inspired by the slow triumphant buildup in the fourth movement, Pines of the Appian Way? Music appreciation students often find program works more accessible because they can relate to the "musical imagery", in part due to the long association of classical music with film and television.

We learn that orchestrating a bassoon solo in minor is frequently paired with a loping comical character, fanfares announce the entrance of royalty, and, for some reason, skeletons sound like xylophones, but why? I can understand that in this age, we learn from films like Fantasia, Jaws, and Star Wars, that different types of music are used to convey different emotions, characters and places. In a very Wagnerian way, a film soundtrack can help tell the story by foreshadowing the events about to take place, announcing the arrival of a character, or reveal what a character is really thinking.

It is easy to understand how the earliest film composers, possibly influenced by the earlier evocative programmatic works, learned to marry the music to the image. But composers were assigning extra-musical associations to their works long before the advent of motion pictures. As early as the Renaissance (William Byrd's The Battell), and the Baroque (Vivaldi's Four Seasons), non-vocal music somehow conveyed something beyond just the music. Why is it that we can truly hear the bucolic feel of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, or follow the action in Symphonie Fantastique or Til Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks? I think the answer is that we all inherit a collective memory, made up of musical associations. Somehow, we build up an instinct to detect variations in tempo, mode, orchestration, rhythm and dynamics and learn to connect those sounds to something else

However it works, the power of program music is unquestionable. Much of the most famous music of the Classical and Romantic eras exploited this power, but not all composers went along. Brahms never went in for it, producing strictly music for music's sake, or "absolute music". Chopin, whose liquidy piano-laden works may not have needed anything else, also avoided composing any program works. But, from Tchaikovsky to Ravel, Dukas to Vaughan Williams, composers have transcended the score and brought us to a new level of experiencing music.

So, when you are in the practice room, trying to figure out that tricky rhythm, or how to tune that bad note, remember that there is always a deeper meaning to the music. Do your homework. Find out what the composer’s motivation was, listen to the movements without a tuba part, read up on the piece. Sure, listen to recordings, study the score, and learn to play it well, but never forget that you are a human being, playing music written by another human being.

Related Links:

Biography of Reshpighi (Naxos)


Pines of Rome Information (Rome Art Lover)


Fountains of Rome Information


Villa Borghese


Program Music (Wikipedia)