ESSAYS

(PERTAINING DIRECTLY OR PERIPHERALLY TO KAIKHOSRU SHAPURJI SORABJIS PIANO SONATA NO V: OPUS ARCHIMAGICUM [1934-35])
BY TELLEF JOHNSON

2010 HYPERFOCAL MEDIA

TABLE OF CONTENTS
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1. SONATA V: OPUS ARCHIMAGICUM 2. SORABJIs single-movement sonatas 3. THE ARCHMAGE 4. SORABJI AND B-A-C-H 5. SORABJIS DEDICATION (BROM-A-G-E) 6. THE TAROT 7. SORABJI AND THE OCCULT 8. SORABJI AND DIES IR 9. OPUS CLAV., OPUS ARCH. AND BEYOND 10. SORABJI AND THE MULTI-MOVEMENT MECHANISM 11. SORABJI AND BUSONI 12. SORABJI AND THE FUGUE

(1) (4) (7) (8) (9) (11) (12) (14) (16) (17) (21) (23)

1. SONATA V: OPUS ARCHIMAGICUM

PARS PRIMA: MAJOR ARCANA FIERO: ARDITO (I) This opening movement is based in the organic fantasy sound world found in the early published sonatas but is much more propulsive and violent in its intensity. Unique are the repetitive anchors on B throughout the initials of the original dedicatee, Bernard Bromage. In addition, Bromages name is referred to in the opening chords, based around the motto G-A-B-E. Sorabji seems to have consciously discarded the method of cataloguing all the various themes he used in the Fourth Sonata, relying on a more instinctual approach to subconscious reiteration of various themes, mottos and phrases throughout the movement where he sees fit. The movement ends with a particularly fiendish coda-appendage. PRESTO: SOTTO VOCE INQUIETO (II) This movement acts as a palate cleanser from the variegated dissonant terrain of the first movement, behaving as a nexus to the melancholic third movement Punta dOrgano. The textural influences can surely be found in Alkans Mouvement semblable et perpetuel from the Trois Grandes tudes Op. 76 or the Finale from the Piano Sonata No. 2 in Bb Minor Op. 35 by Chopin. One can also see a direct parallel to Sorabjis relatively brief (in comparison to this Presto) Transcendental Study No. 77 (Mouvement semblable et perpetual) which refers to the above-mentioned Alkan etude ad verbatum. This movement also builds on Sorabjis own Prelude from the Prelude, Interlude and Fugue, a perpetual motion piece consisting of unbroken sixteenth notes at breakneck speed. Here, Sorabji ups the ante by adding double notes and a longer duration. The work ends again on B. PUNTA DORGANO (III) This movement is based entirely on a pedal note of B, maintaining the works obsession with its dedicatees initials while merging the punta dorgano subgenre with that of the tropical variegated nocturne, a clear favorite of Sorabjis. The movements opening page in particular is lushly harmonic, even unusually so for Sorabji. The piece ends as it begins, with a series of beautiful sensuous chords flanking the unending drone, clearly evoking Le Gibet from Ravels Gaspard de la Nuit. A direct link can be drawn to the Punta dOrganos sister movement, so to speak, the Transcendental Study No. 69 (La punta dorgano).

CON FUOCO ARDITO E FIERO (IV) This movement acts as a mirror to the first movement, returning to the violent, mercurial organic fantasy sound world. In keeping true to the motivic organization of

the work, this ends with a lengthy pedal-point on the note B. PARS ALTERA: MINOR ARCANA (V) This movement is a series of wild and intricate episodes connected with a series of trumpeting B octaves in alternate registers. Also of note is a section that returns over the course of the work for gradual effect with propulsive left hand octaves, not unlike Liszts Funrailles. The repetitive nature of these gestures evoke a kind of primitive minimalism which contrasts the denser and more complex sections and is unique overall to Sorabjis work. The movement builds to an enormous climactic coda with an organic section of fast repeated chords that ultimately give way to a massively augmented reiteration of the B-octave beginning. ADAGIO (VI) The Adagio falls into the nocturne category, rivaling Djami and Gulistan for textural detail. What distinguishes the movement from those pieces is a gradual build-up to a fortissimo bell-like chorus that resounds almost simultaneously in all pianistic registers, requiring Sorabji to use seven or eight staves, the most he ever deployed in any of his piano compositions. This majestic, discordant interlude can be linked in its style to Variation XXVI of Sorabjis Symphonic Variations (which uses six staves). In the Adagio, the interlude returns a second time in a much more extended and intense manner. PARS TERTIA: ARCHIMAGUS PRELUDIO (VII) This movement is a wild flourish that is structured around a series of bell-like chords based on the Bromage motto. Triadic in nature, these chords become gradually more discordant over time. In between these increasingly sour signposts is fast toccata-like writing with a syncopated bass line. As a climax is reached, the B-A-C-H motto appears, and the piece explodes in a series of cascading runs and then ends in quiet octaves reiterating the Bromage motto. PRELUDIO CORALE SOPRA DIES IR (VIII) This movement uses the Dies Ir theme, developing the familiar plainchant through an extended series of hauntingly beautiful and powerful episodes while reintroducing the Bromage and B-A-C-H mottos. An increasingly cataclysmic build-up develops into what may very well be the most extended and violent climax in Sorabjis canon. CADENZA (IX) This movement is also a punta dorgano, this time repeating A over and over against wild filigree. The Dies Ir theme returns at the highest point of pianistic saturation and the piece explodes in violent chords as seen in movement 4 and the preceding Preludio Corale movement.
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FUGUE LIBERA CINQUE VOCI E TRE SOGGETTI (X) The Fugue uses three subjects, one sewn from the opening notes of the Bromage motto, the second based on the Dies Ir motto and the third and final one a skittish motoric mechanism engineered from the B-A-C-H motto. It is inevitable that the Dies Ir and B-A-C-H subjects clash mightily in the climatic and unprecedentedly dense Coda Stretta, ultimately resolving on a B-A-C-H chordal flourish ending, of course, in B Minor.

2. SORABJIS SINGLE MOVEMENT SONATAS (0-3)

Sorabjis piano sonatas are unique works, providing a stepping-stone to the mature piano symphonies that would occupy roughly the last fifty years of his composing career. The sonatas represent a curiously consistent trajectory in the increasing length and scope that would define Sorabjis work as it progressed from the 1920s onwards. Sonata 0 was designated Sonata Op. 7 by the composer; as it was never published and his next piano sonata was published as Sonata No. 1, it has since become known as Sonata 0. It is a pleasant work lasting around 23 minutes that is as much a collection of the composers early Franco-Russian influences as his attempt to write a large-scale work for the piano in one movement in a ceaseless musical fabric. Out of all of the sonatas, 0 is the only to use actual repetition of sections rather than cleverly reiterated motives that would characterize Sonata No. 1, an ecstatic solo work also in one movement, but unique in its exuberant mood and application of virtuoso techniques without losing the substance that propels it. Sonata No. 2 is perhaps Sorabjis most misunderstood sonata. Radically different from its predecessors, it consists of a series of climaxes and vistas that, over a long duration of 50 minutes, continually and paradoxically grow larger and larger until a cataclysmic climax occurs. Despite such chaos, those grasping for harmonic, rhythmic and melodic unity can find useful signposts in this work. Just as we maintain consistency through our own handwriting, so does a composer even Sorabji in this experimental period. He seems subconsciously to have found himself drawn to similar chords, rhythms, melodies and textures even if, as sometimes seems to be the case, he was making all attempts to avoid any suggestion of self-repetition. For instance, Sonata No. 2 begins with an ascending motto in thirds, as if rising out of a murky mid-register into some sort of half-light. That motto is heard many times in the course of the work, the fabric to a musical Persian carpet saturated with color and detail. The motto is not always repeated exactly, rhythmically or intervallically, but many times throughout the works duration, the ear will easily identify this ascending gesture, from which new ideas and textures organically grow in a constant and compelling stream-of-consciousness. Being able aurally to recognize this musical shape from time to time is the key to the simple navigation of this complex work, though the time it takes to gain aural familiarity is considerable, given the sonatas overall length. Sonata No. 3 retains many of its predecessors qualities. Whereas Sonata No. 2 was often concerned with using the ascending interval of the third and the augmented triad as a building block, Sorabji now is preoccupied with an ascending dissonant interval of the second (major and minor) which shapes the direction of many of the work's important gestures, most notably the declamatory introductory phrase in eighth notes and permeates the harmonic texture, allowing for one of Sorabji's most dissonant works.
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It is not unwise to think of both Sonata No. 2 and Sonata No. 3 as an enormous Persian rug, with the listener a small ant traversing its terrain. At once, the work up-close seems athematic, even jarring and unconnected, but like that rug, the overall cumulative effect or larger picture reveals a series of inter-connective threads based around the prevailing ascending interval of choice. Just as even the smallest of steps gradually lead a walker on an adventure through changing landscapes, Sorabjis introductory ascending intervallic steps in Sonata No. 3 leads us down a musically thorny, angst-ridden expressionistic path of dense foliage (dissonant contrapuntal textures), wide-open vistas (long chains of eighth notes) and churning industry (furious rapid-chord passages), ultimately selfdestructing in what must be one of the most outrageous climaxes in musical history. Conceivably, in the world of experimental jazz, where music, whether strictly notated or improvised, has a free-form, spontaneous nature, Sorabjis compositional approach might have been welcomed; however, in the circles of conservative musical 1920s London and the concise, ordered thinking of the avant-gardes post-Second Viennese School, the Sonata No. 3 may have appeared a deliberate affront to the principles of the day. Yet for all of Sorabjis apparent dismissal of motivic cohesion, perhaps rooted in a deepseated desire to defy the establishment, his subconscious instinctively finds repetition in the form of the literary technique of foreshadowing. In the Sonata No. 3, Sorabji hints at the work's massive final climax with a tell-tale leitmotiv from as early as the second minute of the ninety-some minute piece; this leitmotiv stands out against the thorny harmonic texture with its contrasting descending triad (sol-mi-do), a repetitive and distinct sing-song pattern not unlike a singer's vocal warm-up. One can listen throughout this piece for this motif until it finally appears full force at the 65th page and then gradually infects the last ten minutes in bold fortissimo unisons in both hands, forming the basis for a propulsive series of three hundred and seventy chords which lead to the work's apocalyptic final gesture. Sonata No. 3 seems to represent Sorabjis attempt to bring closure to this experimental compositional style. It contains the wildest pages that he had produced up to that point and is, in the composers own words, a gehenna-like work of some hour and a quarters duration, staking the composers desire to rival the large-scale works of Beethoven, Alkan and Reger in terms of grandiosity and length. It is arguably the most difficult single-movement Sorabji work (or possibly of any other composer for that matter). Uncompromising, angular, intense, and seething with contrasts of every dynamic, emotional and textural kind, it represents the undisputed summit of his early output. Sonata No. 3 was completed in 1922, a year of prolific activity for Sorabji during which six works were completed or in progress. He wrote this work, like his others, away from the piano, first calculating the length of manuscript pages in his head. Once a general duration was determined, he was then free to traverse the depths and limits of his
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creative subconscious as pen touched paper. From the title page of the original manuscript, Sorabji seems to have seen the work in three sections, although such an intention had no eventual bearing upon the pieces structure as it emerged when written. Such a musical approach is rare in Sorabjis overall uvre. His other large-scale works frequently generate their huge contrasts in texture and mood between different movements, or commit to a single ecstatic state, as in the extended nocturne-pieces, a favourite genre of the composers. At the early sonatas time of completion, Sorabji was still a young composer trying to find his own voice, possessed by a wealth of wildly contrasting ideas that would eventually crystallize into the more formally rigorous mature works that followed almost immediately, coincidentally with the ascendant influence of Busoni. During the time of composition, Sorabji was actively championing his music for friends, colleagues, and the general public. Sonata No. 1 and Sonata No. 2 went through the printing press and the young composer-pianist performed these and possibly others of his works privately for distinguished listeners including William Walton and writer Sacheverell Sitwell. On Friday, January 13, 1922 Sorabji publicly premired these two sonatas in Vienna to a small but enthusiastic crowd consisting of Schnberg pupils, publishers and critics. Critic Paul Bechert was baffled by the music, saying in short, that compared to Mr. Sorabji, Arnold Schnberg must be a tame reactionary. Withal, the impression Mr. Sorabji creates is that of a fully sincere personality, in whose madness there must be some sort of method. Just what that method implies, future generations may perhaps be able to discover. After completing the Sonata No. 3, Sorabji was ready to move on to different methods, organizing the two remaining Sonatas and large-scale works into shorter movements, but extending overall durations in the process.

3. THE ARCHMAGE
The Archimagus, or Archmage, is an almighty sorcerer or wizard. The term is coined from the Greek word arche, meaning first, and magus, a reference to the astrologers of ancient Persia. Archmages are a staple of rle-playing games and video games, having first been seen prominently in fantasy literature where they are often portrayed as grandiose, omnipotent figures transcending tangible forms of human power to supernatural levels. This could be Gandalf in Tolkiens Lord of the Rings trilogy or Archmage Arugal in the videogame World of Warcraft. In almost all cases they are a subset of any profession or group that uses these extraordinary powers in a highly disciplined way. A good analogy would be that archmages are to wizards what a surgeon is to a doctor, or what a virtuoso performer is to a mere practitioner of the standard repertoire. Sorabjis use of Archimagus to title the third and final movement of Sonata No. 5 seems to emphasize the powerful, all-encompassing rle of that section, comprising a Preludio, Preludio Corale (on Dies Ir), Cadenza, and Fuga. The title Opus Archimagicum means work of the arch-mage, as the Opus Clavicembalistcums Latin-based title meant work for the piano. Therefore, the title Opus Archimagicum ultimately emphases the idea of an omnipotent, all-knowing and controlling sorcerer (perhaps a metaphor for composer?) as the tantamount element to this large epic piano work.

4. SORABJI AND B-A-C-H

Many composers admire J. S. Bach and its not hard to see why, given that Bachs considerable output often balances an almost mathematical, intellectual precision and rigor to create some of the most emotionally moving compositions in the canon. Bachs balance of the mind and intellect with the sublime is an irresistible combination seldom equaled by any other creator of music, and yet many composers may not fully relate to Bachs accomplishments until later in their development when their fledgling preoccupations and immature inspirations have worn off and they begin to demonstrate a mastery of their own particular art. Sorabjis early influences owe themselves to Delius and Scriabin, but we gradually see Bachs spectre pleasantly hanging over his own emerging uvre, initially by way of Sorabjis contemporary idol, Busoni. As Busoni (and Liszt, Schumann and Bach himself did before him), Sorabji began to quote directly the B-A-C-H motto in respect to the master in his first mature work, the 1924 Organ Symphony No. 1 and in the final section of Sonata No. 5 (Opus Archimagicum) whose movement 7, Preludio, uses the B-A-C-H motto in large chords, juxtaposing a similarly voiced motto G-A-B-E (the Bromage motto); both mottos ring like tolling bells, continuing on into movement 8, the Preludio Corale on Dies Ir, sometimes dwarfing the Dies Ir theme and, in movement 10, the BA-C-H appears as the start of the second subject just as the Bromage motto begins the introductory notes of the first subject finally, B-A-C-H wins out by concluding the entire piece in enormous-spanned chords. Sorabji transcribed two Bach works for solo piano, Prelude in Eb, which was a favorite piece of his friend Reginald Best, and the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, retitled by Sorabji as Transcription in the Light of Harpsichord Technique for the Modern Piano of the Chromatic Fantasia of J. S. Bach, followed by a Fugue. The Transcendental Study No. 99 deals with the same material, as does the opening gesture of the earlier Toccata No. 2. It could be said that, in the light of his entire life and compositional career, Sorabji ultimately grew to admire Bach over all other composers.

5. SORABJIS DEDICATION (BROM-A-G-E)

Sorabjis numerous friendships over his long lifespan are sometimes represented by exhaustive correspondences. Occasionally, it might seem that Sorabjis side of the correspondences bordered on the obsessive: From a letter from Philip Heseltine to Frederick Delius, February 11, 1914: "The Parsee I told you about continues to write the most gushing and enthusiastic letters! In the fourth letter, I was already "the most sympathetic person he had ever come across", save his mother (to whose apron-strings he appears to be tied!), and by the time the fifth was reached, he was convinced that in a "former incarnation" (!) I must have been closely related to him: "the law of Karma has ordained us to meet in this life. What sort will it be in the higher stages of the Marwantara? Can you imagine?!!" etc. etc. He concludes with the wonderful phrase, "Yours quite as much as my own"!!! This to a person he has never seen! It really is great fun, and I encourage him to write more and more, since I find his letters most entertaining, and sometimes really interesting when he talks about music." In a letter to his former composition tutor, Heseltine writes: "The Blackamore whom you spotted at Ravel's concert was the very man!... I shall never dare to visit him now and am beginning to fear that, amusing as his correspondence is, I shall soon repent having encouraged it, since I am sure I will never get rid of him again! He becomes more and more queer every letter he writes, but it is getting much too personal: I am "the most sympathetic person he has ever met", etc. etc.(although he has never met me- for that, at least, I am thankful!!) Moreover he is convinced that in a former incarnation, I must have been related to him. What funnys these Parsees are!!" One wonders if the demise of a friendship with Sorabji occurred when it was clear that the other side did not reciprocate Sorabjis feelings equally. This may have been the case with the occult scholar and lecturer Bernard Bromage, to whom Sorabji felt strongly enough to devote a 6-hour long composition. Sonata No. 5 (Opus Archimagicum) is based on all things Bromage, which would explain Sorabjis programmatic use of the tarot, the obsessive pedal points based on B(ernard), the use of the motto G-A-B-E (Bernard B[rom]AGE) and its very title being a possible pun: Archmagicus, without the Latin use (in Kings English) becomes ArchMAGE, not unlike BroMAGE. If this was intended, comparing Bromage to grand sorcerer would be, to use Sorabjis own phrase, putting the dedicatee in in highest estimation, an attempt to flatter Bromage beyond his wildest belief. Yet, many years later, Sorabji affixed a new dedication to Sonata No. 5, directed to Clinton Gray-Fisk, the principal critic of Musical Opinion: TO CLINTON GRAY FISK: -HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, THE AUTHOR OF THIS ERE PIECE.
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EPISTLE DEDICATORY: MY DEAR CLINTON: I TRUST YOU WONT TAKE IT AMISS MY REDEDICATING THIS WORK, TO YOU, IT HAVING BORNE SINCE IT WAS BEGUN IN 1934 (UP TO NOW 1943) THE NAME OF ONE FOR WHOM I HAD FOR TWENTY YEARS REGARDED AS MY GREATEST FRIEND UNTIL HE DENIED ALL FURTHER POSSIBILITY OF THE TRUST AND FAITH THAT IS THE VERY ESSENTIAL OF FRIENDSHIP: BUT THAT I PLACE YOUR NAME ON IT IN SUCCESSION TO THAT OF ONE FOR WHOM FOR SO LONG I HAD SUCH REGARD, SPEAKS, I THINK YOU WILL AGREE AMPLY FOR THE ESTIMATION IN WHICH I HOLD YOU. YOURS EVER. K.S.S. X. III. MCMXLIII The greatest irony was that when Sorabjis relationship with Bromage soured, or grew non-existent, he changed the dedication, thus rendering the original meaning of the entire composition almost null and void for Sorabji would never be able to remove Bromage from the musics numerous mottos and motifs that pervaded the whole, short of burning the composition, which thankfully he did not do. It would almost be the equivalent of painting the Mona Lisa and then trying to distance oneself from the subject; nevertheless, this was neither the first nor last instance of a Sorabji composition to receive a second dedicatee.

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6. THE TAROT
The tarot is a pack of some 78 cards, originating in 15th-century Europe, but which soon afterwards found use by mystics and occultists as a guide to spiritual paths. Today, the tarot has been embraced in contemporary pop culture as a method for predicting individuals fortunes and futures. The tarot card has two distinct parts: MAJOR ARCANA (Greater Secrets) consists of twenty-two cards, each with a character: The Fool, The Magician, The High Priestess, The Empress, The Emperor, The Hierophant, The Lovers, The Chariot, Strength, The Hermit, Wheel of Fortune, Justice, The Hanged Man, Death, Temperance, The Devil, The Tower, The Star, The Moon, The Sun, Judgment, and The World. Carl Jung was the first psychologist to see the tarot cards in a symbolic and metaphorical manner. For him, the cards represented various basic archetypes rooted in the human subconscious. As a result, people may find kinship with certain cards that they feel best represent their personalities. Timothy Leary suggests that the cards represent the entire length of ones life in all its multifaceted elements and stages. MINOR ARCANA (Lesser Secrets) consists of four suits (like traditional playing cards) of 14 playing cards each. The suits lend themselves not to characters but to images or symbols: swords, wands, coins and cups. In the 1920s and 1930s, Aleister Crowley hired the artist Lady Frieda Harris to paint the cards, using what he had learned in the Order of the Golden Dawn to design his version (Thoth Tarot). The project achieved such an epic and protracted scope that Crowley did not live to see the final result. Sorabjis Opus Archimagicum uses the two different tarot parts to mirror its own first two sections; Part I is titled Major Arcana, Part II, Minor Arcana. The content within is largely free from any further reference to the cards; overall, Sorabji seemed to be thinking of the cards as a signpost for his overall design. Sorabjis decision to use such programmatic associations, obvious or vague, seem to derive from the limits that he set on the composition by adhering to concerns and associations most appealing to the original dedicatee, Bernard Bromage.

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7. SORABJI AND THE OCCULT

It is important to emphasize the influence of one of Sorabji's colleagues, the composer and critic Philip Heseltine (1880-1930), around this time. Heseltine's positive reaction to Sorabji's early attempts at composing undoubtedly spurred Sorabji to soldier on through a succession of original piano concerti and works for piano solo. It seems that, during these formative years, Sorabji looked up to Heseltine as a musical mentor, confidant, and friend. It is then no coincidence that Sorabji would be at least mildly interested in the occult/paranormal phenomena that achieved some currency in London in the early 1920s, through Heseltine's insistence that they attend sessions at the London School for Psychical Research, where such subjects of telepathy and automatic writing were discussed and explored. Indeed, automatic writing may have been an influence on Sorabjis methods of composition. The idea of writing material that may not obviously derive from the writers conscious thoughts is not unlike composing in general, which can be said to depend to some extent on subconscious associations and abstractions that do not necessarily need conventional or literal logic to be validated. The speed at which Sorabji composed, always away from the piano and the complex and diverse associations that his music triggered might seem to have a direct connection with the techniques applied in automatic writing. During the composition of Sonata No. 3, Sorabji was interested in meeting the notorious occultist Aleister Crowley, nicknamed The Beast, a magician, entrepreneur and sexual sadist whose claim to fame arose chiefly from his ground-breaking novels about drugaddiction, his adoption of the biblically attributed 'number of the beast' 666 and, much later, his idolization by the British glam-rock scene in the 1970s. Sorabji's desire to play for Crowley seems to stem again from Heseltine's urging; the young composer attempted to track Crowley down when on vacation in Italy with his mother, venturing south to Cefalu, Sicily to Crowley's infamous Abbey of Thelema. Sorabjis interest in Crowley was satiated after he eventually heard him speak in London, subsequently arranging to see him. Unfortunately, Sorabji's letters to Heseltine stop short of describing this unusual encounter, leading us to wonder which piece or pieces he played for Crowley. Sorabji wrote later about Crowley being largely a figure of fun, and perhaps not the towering character the ambitious and idealistic young composer might have hoped him to be. From a letter to Philip Heseltine: [Crowley] is the dullest of dull dogs he wants however to hear me play and when Im finished with my Solstitial Fast which started last night Sunday at 6 and ends next Sunday at 6 PM, he is coming to hear some of my demons. He had on a red poplin silk waistcoat with gold buttons and his face is sunburnt up to the hat-line, above its lighter, making him look like a mask in a Chinese play. His face is that of a prosperous overfed foxhunting tory-squire
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the unteachable in full pursuit of the unwearable.1 Sorabjis direct use of occult elements as programmatic themes in his music reveals itself in the proposed but perhaps never written Black Mass, for chorus and organ and Sonata No. 5: Opus Archimagicum with its references to tarot lore and the mystical Dies Ir plainchant; it can also be seen in the two programmatic M. R. James-influenced short works Quaere reliqua hujus materiei inter secretiora and St. Bertrand de Comminges: He was laughing in the tower and explicitly so in the movement titled Of a neophyte and how the black art was revealed to him in his Toccata No. 4. Throughout the rest of his life, Sorabji maintained a fascination for numerology, astrology and stories of the supernatural, retaining a healthy interest in various offshoots of some of the mystical concerns that may have helped to spark his initial creative spirit as a young man.

A play on words uttered by Oscar Wilde in his famous comment on fox-hunting: The unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.

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8. SORABJI AND DIES IR

Dies Ir (Day of Wrath) is a famous 13th-century Latin hymn credited as having been composer by Tommaso de Celano. The text describes the Day of Judgment, or day of reckoning. Although composers as diverse as Haydn, Berlioz and Liszt used the motto in their works, Sorabjis deployment of Dies Ir can probably be linked directly to CharlesValentin Alkans use of the same motto in his Symphonie for piano solo (nos. 4-7 of his Douze tudes dans les tons mineurs, Op. 39). As Sorabjis love for Bach initially manifested itself through Busoni, his nearly 20-year obsession with the plainchant could have come from the then obscure French master whom he so revered and admired. Alkans presence in the Opus Archimagicum is felt throughout, not only in the second presto movement but, in particular, in the preludio corale which features the plainchant but possesses a particularly Alkanesque sensibility in its use of basso registers for dramatic effect and the overall draconic tone present throughout. It seems that Sorabji may have been attracted to the Dies Ir theme due to its dramatically sinister implications of eternal damnation, its Roman Catholic origin (a branch of Christian religion which was to interest him very much), from the standpoint of an almost baroque theatricality as well as its rle in other compositions he admired such as Alkans Symphonie or, for that matter, Liszts Totentanz and Berliozs Symphonie Fantastique. Sorabjis first attempt to use the piece in a major work was in his Variazioni e fuga triplice sopra Dies Ir per pianoforte, a mammoth series of variations in three parts; in retrospect, he seemed dissatisfied with results of this, although the Seven Deadly Sins section of the second part is quite striking for its time in its programmatic novelty. Sorabji moved on to develop his multi-movement style before adopting the Dies Ir directly in the Preludio Corale movement of Opus Archimagicum; this movement is unique in that the main theme fights for attention with two other similarly developed mottos, firstly B-A-C-H and secondly G-A-B-E (derived from the dedicatee Bernard Bromages name). At the head of this movement, Sorabji develops the entire plainchant in an extended introduction similar to that of Liszts Ballade No. 2 in B minor, then departs from this approach by casually developing certain fragments of the chant as it suits him almost in the manner of a fantasia, with ensuing episodes that seem to reject the structural rigidity of a typical theme-and-variations device. Ultimately, Sorabji creates many layers of richness and unpredictability with the plainchant, sonically maintaining the elegiac tone and aura of mystery that has enshrouded the motto over centuries. Whilst Sorabjis subsequent return to use of the Dies Ir manifested itself largely as a quotation in St. Bertrand de Comminges: He was Laughing in the Tower, his final and total mastery of the chant originated in what may be the finest specimen of the themeand-variations genre, the Sequentia Cyclica super Dies Ir ex Missa pro Defunctis in clavivembali usum (to give it its full title) in which his use of Dies Ir achieves its ultimate
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summa in a roughly 7-hour long set of 27 variations, transporting the entire chant through a variety of different musical worlds, permutations and developments to a stunning and apocalyptic finale.

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9. OPUS CLAV., OPUS ARCH. AND BEYOND

Whilst Opus Clavicembalisticum gets a lot of attention for being the most notoriously difficult work in the piano literature, it has not yet been widely recognized that, post1930, Sorabji created other works that dwarfed its size and ambition which for many years sat around in manuscript copy. Efforts by the Sorabji Archive to distribute Sorabjis music have helped the adventurous to glean insights into other behemoths that the composer bequeathed, but the sheer impenetrability of the manuscripts themselves have made this difficult. Now newly type-set, Opus Archimagicum can clearly call its fame as one of Sorabjis largest and most forbidding compositions but is it better than the O.C.? The answer to that question must inevitably remain entirely subjective, but if one uses a series of criteria based on general common sense and the obvious, a few points of interest can be drawn between the two works that showcase their relative strengths and merits, all of which will be left up to the reader to ponder. Sorabji continued the juxtaposition of contrasting movements in a number of other large works over the next forty years with varying results. Of particular interest is the Sixth Piano Symphony, his only other large-scale multi-movement work in three distinctly specified sections that comes close to the proportional balance of form found in Opus Archimagicum. OPUS CLAV
Four fugues Uses theme and variations/passacaglia Uses Sorabjis own and C-G-H MD mottos Introito and Preludio-Corale opens In 12 movements lasting c. 4.5 hours Includes Fantasia, 2 cadenzas, Toccata Length of first movement = c. 2 minutes Slow movement = Adagio

OPUS ARCH
One fugue at very end Uses long movements Uses B-A-C-H, Dies Ir and G-A-B-E (Bromage) mottos Preludio and Preludio Corale opens Part 3 In 10 movements lasting c.6 hours Uses a Presto, Preludio and one cadenza Length of first movement = c. 40 minutes Slow movement = Punta dorgano Uses large-scale pedal point for entire composition (B/B minor) Uses A/B/A symmetrical form in Pt. 1 (movement 1[A]/2,3[B]/4[A])

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10. SORABJI AND THE MULTI-MOVEMENT MECHANISM

If one looks at Sorabjis early large-scale works, principally the first four sonatas, they follow a free single-movement form, charting an evolution from a kind of organic fantasy rooted largely in Franco-Russian influences (Sonatas 0 and 1) to an almost writtendown improvisation around repeated gestural shapes exploding into a series of gradually intensifying climaxes. As Sorabji found himself completing the c.90-minute Sonata No. 3, there may have been no way farther to go in that direction. He needed to find a better way to house his eclectic and disparate influences as well as his desire for successively larger climaxes; perhaps one solution was to return to the idea of a multi-movement plan that would lend shape and structure to his subconscious for the first time via familiar classical forms often popular in the Baroque and Classical periods. This return to the past proved equally effective to Sorabjis idol Busoni in his Fantasia Contrappuntistica, so why not the Parsee give it a whirl? The Sonata No. 4 is the first of Sorabjis piano sonatas to be divided into movements, but his first major work to embrace such a strategy is Organ Symphony No. 1, divided into three large movements each embracing musical forms that had by then become traditionally associated with the organ itself: the prelude, the passacaglia, the postlude, the pedal-point, the toccata, the fugue. It is unique to observe Sorabji applying similar methodology to a work for piano solo several years later, the Toccata No. 1. This piece, comprising five movements but no large-scale sectional structure, builds its momentum through a series of fugal episodes relieved only by a brilliant and brisk Cadenza that occurs roughly midway through the work. It has become clear from Organ Symphony No. 1 and Toccata No. 1 that, for Sorabji, a concluding, slow-burning Fugue that builds to an exorable climax proves to be an effective way to conclude a work, just as it had been for composers from Beethoven to Reger. Sonata No. 4 is the first of the sonatas to embrace the multi-movement structure, successively developing the potential of Toccata No. 1, keeping the organ-friendly forms and structures of the fantasia, cadenza and [concluding] fugue while juxtaposing these with the organic single-movement type design of Sonatas 0-3 as well as the nocturne-type writing seen in Le Jardin Parfum. Such a method radically expands Sorabjis overall length past Sonata No. 3s c.90 minutes but at the same time allows for individually shorter and more varied movements, creating greater variety of mood and texture as well as allowing the music actually to arrive at legitimate conclusions as one movement ends and the next one begins, thus negating the sometimes unsatisfying peaks and valleys of the first three sonatas. This strategy of Sorabjis continued through his entire compositional trajectory of largescale works, through the seminal Opus Clavicembalisticum, Sonata No. 5 ( O p u s
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Archimagicum), Piano Quintet No. 2, Toccatas 2-4, Organ Symphonies nos. 2 and 3 and the Piano Symphonies. Of additional interest is Sorabjis addition of additional established devices such as the punta dorgano, the scherzo or the operatic aria to spice up or provide adequate contrasts and connections within his large-scale multi-movement compositions. It is interesting to perceive, in the world of 20th century Western art music, what is ultimately good or bad, or effective or ineffective, because so much is of an individual opinion based on ones own life and limited to ones own particular set of experiences starting from birth, yet one can never divorce the universal human factor from any form of expression, popular or not. The human spirit at its most universally primal craves movement, motion and it responds accordingly to such; artists have accordingly tried, in their own forms, to reflect this. Sorabjis method is to use shape and time to represent the human journey and his juxtapositions of the contrasting movements in his major works, when managed effectively, create an overall large-scale aural and structural shape that stimulates the psyche and its intellect with an unique symmetrical balance not unlike those found in nature with the yin and the yang. Which large-scale (i.e. 3+-hour-long) Sorabji work has the best chance of reaching such an ideal? Although there can hardly be a single correct answer, one would look for a work that, overall, has a good balance it would have to have a clear beginning, middle and end, not unlike that of a play or film or opera. One might venture to say that the 3-act structure, among the most dramatic and satisfying in the story-telling world, finds its parallel in 3-section works such as the three Organ Symphonies, Piano Symphonies 2, 4 and 6, Opus Clavicembalisticum and Piano Sonata No. 5 (Opus Archimagicum); even works such as the Symphonic Variations and Sequentia Cyclica super Dies Ir, perhaps among the most brilliant theme-and-variations works in the entire history of the piano, fit into the same mould, for all that Sorabji does not specify three separate sections as such for performance purposes in either case (the former is approaching its world premire at the time of writing and the pianist, Jonathan Powell, has already perceived two ideal places in which to break it i.e. after variations 13 and 22). For the work to reach its maximum ideal in form, each part must balance it as a whole and not unnecessarily weigh down the others. This poses challenges in interpreting Organ Symphony No. 2, whose first part is an introduction to the gigantic second and third movements as well as Organ Symphony No. 3, whose finale takes the lions share of the whole and may initially seem disproportionate to the first and second movements. Opus Clavicembalisticum is similarly challenged and, although each part is consistently and gradually extended from the one before, one might wonder if Interludium B should form its own part, making it a four-section rather than three-section structure in order to aid the listener in grasping the work as whole. Piano Symphony No. 2s second part seems
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a little weightless in comparison to the first and third parts but features a strong lyrical middle movement in which an extended duration is inevitable and structurally appropriate. In the case of Piano Symphony No. 4, a symmetrical structure in which the second part assumes a weightier rle flanked by a shorter first and third section seems highly satisfactory and Piano Symphony No. 6 seems to find a well-proportioned balance overall. In terms of durational proportion, Piano Sonata No. 5 (Opus Archimagicum) has the most balanced structure of all the works in question, for its first, second and third parts are of equal length at around 2 hours each, making a grand total of some 6 hours. When it comes to the structural analysis of the movements within these large-scale sections, one looks for effective variety and contrast, as well as a pleasing design that would allow the ear to recognize it as such during the course of a listen. Such a design is challenging to find in Piano Symphony No. 4s middle section which, despite the genius of its preludio/interludio/ostinato variations-set, has an additional theme-and-variation and fugue-set which needs to be prefaced with a pause or intermission in performance, for it is a challenge for the ear to discern it from what precedes it. As a result, it is sometimes difficult to grasp the shape of the work. In addition, it seems that certain sections of Piano Symphonies 2 & 6 have a number of separate, detached movements which seem to give the listener more of a feeling of episodic Sorabjian variety than a tight-knit, memorable juggernaut slowly building over its lengthy course. Despite the clarity and effective arrangement of two brilliantly proportioned opening movements (perhaps owing to the overall success of the entire composition), O p u s Clavicembalisticum, like its model, Busonis Fantasia Contrappuntistica, utilizes a number of fugues prior to the brilliant, conclusive Coda Stretta that often challenge the freshness of the structure with a textural repetitiveness and sometimes halt the momentum, something that Sorabjis subsequent large-scale works wisely avoid. Once again, Opus Archimagicums arrangement of movements for contrast and individuality in the listeners mind is exemplary. Although it lacks the compressed, introductory one-two punch of the Introito and Preludio Corale of Opus Clavicembalisticum, the first part uses a unique symmetry to divide what might customarily be a large-scale single movement organic fantasy (found in the likes of Organ Symphony No. 1, Piano Sonata No. 4 and Piano Symphonies 2, 4 & 6) into two halves, then injected with two transitional movements, the diabolical Presto: Sotto Voce Inquieto which is a nexus and palate cleanser to the beautiful Punta dOrgano third movement that fuses the Sorabjian nocturne with a Bachian pedal-point not unlike Ravels Le Gibet. Opus Archimagicums second part is completely different from any of the other large-scale works in that it, like the first section, is symmetrical, divided into two halves with movements 5 and 6 generally contrasting each other and, for that matter, anything previously heard before them. Movement 5 is a violent fantasy linked with clear motivic repetitions that return from time to time and movement 6 is a ravishing Adagio nocturne with two bell-toll climaxes spread across seven staves.
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Opus Archimagicums third and most successful section is its last, which begins with a brilliant preludio, a preludio-corale based on Dies Ir and a Cadenza that is another palate cleanser/nexus-type connection to the final Fugue. In this sense, Opus Archimagicum behaves like an inverted Opus Clavicembalisticum, as the first part of Opus Clavicembalisticum shares a similar structural ground plan to the third part in Opus Archimagicum, although Sorabji wisely uses only one large fugue to conclude it. To conclude, Opus Archimagicum may well owe its success to a proportionately balanced three-part structure to which it adheres, and even more so to the fact that the number of movements within and their contrasting and symmetrical relationship with each other is quite possible for the listener to distinguish on first hearing and remember afterwards. Such a structure also allows for an effective large-scale climactic build up that is gradual and fairly coherent in its grading despite the immense number of small-scale climaxes sprinkled throughout the entire composition. This is quite unique and rare in itself in the Sorabjian realm. While such a birds-eye view of these very different large-scale works may prove to be problematic in itself, looking at Sorabjis surface shapes clearly affords insights and interest in how the ultimate picture the birds-eye view of thousands of notes may emotionally and intellectually affect the listener as a whole.

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11. SORABJI AND BUSONI

When writing to his friend and musical confidant Philip Heseltine in the 1920s, Sorabji heaped glowing praise on a variety of composers, in particular the Russian Alexander Scriabin and the English Frederick Delius who was a contact of Heseltines. In fact, Sorabjis first attempt at composing anything was a transcription of Deliuss In a Summer Garden. Yet, as Sorabji continued composing and completed the Piano Sonata No. 1, he had a most remarkable opportunity to play that work in 1919 in London for the seminal composer-pianist Ferruccio Busoni. Whereas Delius and Scriabin played an substantial rle in the formation of the musical vocabulary of Sorabjis early works, this chance encounter with Busoni seems to have been one of the most significant in Sorabjis life. Piano Sonata No. 1 owes little to Busoni in its compositional language, but the good experience Sorabji had playing for il Maestro motivated the Parsee not only to dedicate it and Piano Sonata No. 2 to Busoni but also to absorb some of the more adventurous aspects of Busonis own idiom in the latter work. There are moments in Piano Sonata No. 2 that seem culled straight from Busonis Indian Fantasy and a variety of textures appear in its peaks and valleys that appear to be very Busoni-eseque in their harmonic and textual shadings. But this was only the beginning. Soon after the completion of the Piano Sonata No. 3 in 1922, Sorabji discarded his single-movement organic-fantasy style for the multi-movement structure favored again by Busoni in his Fantasia Contrappunistica. If that wasnt enough, Sorabji completed the Trois Pastiches, one of which contains a transcription of material from Bizets Carmen, owing to Busonis own transcription from the same opera. The movement titles in Opus Clavicembalisticum could be straight out of Busonis Fantasia Contrappunistica, complete with a Coda Stretta to boot. And then, in Piano Sonata No. 5 (Opus Archimagicum), Sorabji uses the B-A-C-H motto to ground the composition, as did Busoni. Finally, there is the dedication of the Variazioni e fuga triplice sopra Dies Ir per pianoforte to the memory of Busoni that borders on the obsessive in its praise and idolization. What was the real reason for all of this? It might have been simple enough to say that Busoni was kind to Sorabji and, for the accomplished but insecure young composer, having such a legendary figure so receptive to him might have been the event that freed him to embrace Busonis own work not so much in the manner of homage but as a key to solving the various problems that had affected his early work. Most art is based on what comes before it and Sorabji followed the maxim that one can use another persons ideas as long as he/she brings something new to the table. Indeed, Sorabji brought an emotional tempest to dinner, so to speak, taking forms pioneered by Busonis re-discovery of Bachs Art of Fugue and exploding them to almost pathologically perverse lengths. Busonis own music might have its difficulties, but it doesnt possess the almost flamboyant malevolence that colors Sorabjis best works. Nor does Busonis work contain the meditative transcendental quality that characterizes Sorabjis nocturnes and the best sections of the various large-scale multi21

movement works. The extreme contrast and virtuoso writing pushed to seemingly absurd heights in Sorabjis music is all his own and, ultimately, it is this unique quality that the listener remembers, not the form i.e. the Busoni models were merely a method or conduit for Sorabji to gain access to his own voice. Had he played for Schnberg or Rachmaninov in lieu of Busoni and elicited similarly positive responses, Sorabji might have gone in different directions perhaps more sympathetic to those men but, most likely, his personal, emotive voice would still have remained intact.

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12. SORABJI AND THE FUGUE

The fugue has fascinated many composers over the centuries, as it is a curious device that demands an intellectual mastery of technical form but also generates a sense of direction, motion and a goal like no other musical sub-genre. World literatures finest works often involve a hero or anti-hero on the archetypal mission or quest; how is a fugue any different? The subject in a fugue must be put through a number of tests and go through a variety of different rles; once having fulfilled these, the composition ends, i.e. the goal is reached or the task achieved. All the while, the constant movement generated by this process gives the listener a sense of purpose and direction until the climax is reached and the challenges resolved. In most of his seminal works, Sorabjis treatment of the fugue is no different from Beethovens use of it in the Hammerklavier Sonata or that of any other 17th or 18th century composer that uses a fugue as a dramatic end point to a large work; in much of Sorabji, the fugue has the final answer and is the summit of the composition, both from an intellectual and a dramatic standpoint. What is frustrating about Sorabjis fugues is a problem unique not to him but to all 20th century composers who essentially are attracted to the fugues linear or horizontal aspects (the entrance of the various subjects and countersubjects to build textural density and dramatic intensity), but not to its vertical (i.e. harmonic) parameters; the finest modern fugues therefore tend to focus on idiosyncratic themes that can easily be identified by the ear and simultaneously generate a wild excitement in their reiterations, as to hopefully compensate for the lack of harmonic beauty or mastery that the finest fugues of previous centuries were able to attain. Sorabjis ability to do this is spotty at times, but from his entire output there are several fugues that do maintain genuine interest and from both a dramatic and musical standpoint throughout their sometimes unwieldy durations. Sorabjis fugues range from the free-form (the Cadenza-fugata in his second orchestral symphony) to the extremely rule-oriented in regard to the treatment of the subject and its various inversions and countersubjects (e.g. the fugues in Opus Clavicembalisticum ). We have a brief Fughettina in the short piano work Toccatinetta sopra C.G.F. and massive ones in Organ Symphonies 2 & 3 of which the latter probably lasts at least ninety minutes and the former an even more improbable two hours. Sorabji chooses to use a variety of different voices for various fugues although, in a Sorabji fugue, this tends to seem technically irrelevant to the extent that all ten fingers are constantly utilized sometimes to a breaking point regardless of the voice count! In a major Sorabji work, it is not uncommon for the fugue to last a full hour or more, depending on how many subjects he uses and the tempo that he chooses. Sorabjis first use of the fugue seems to have occurred in 1922, where Piano Sonata No. 3 has a fugato-like section that builds to an enormous climax. The same year, Sorabji wrote
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an actual fugue movement in Prelude, Interlude and Fugue for piano solo. One would probably attribute Sorabjis embracing of the fugue at this point of his life to Regers Bach and Handel Variations for piano solo, of which both end with dense fugues that take on organ-like sonorities, traits similar to Sorabjis early attempts at this sub-genre, but by the time Sorabji was writing Opus Clavicembalisticum, the fugues, from an inspirational point of view, clearly respond to the model of the Busoni Fantasia Contrappunistica fugal playbook. Opus Clavicembalisticums use of a Coda-Stretta emphasises this, though Sorabjis take on the idea of an extended fugal coda is nightmarish and apocalyptic, something no one would have attributed to Busonis particular musical language. As Sorabji is never entirely predictable, there are several large-scale works that deviate from using the fugue as a closing movement. Opus Clavicembalisticum does close with one but, in addition, it uses three others as major signposts throughout its course. All but the first of his numbered piano symphonies feature a concluding adagio with a large fugal movement immediately preceding it, perhaps a sign of Sorabjis maturity in that a somber and slow finish would ultimately be of even greater emotional depth. Unusual to Sorabji is the fact that his massive Piano Quintet No. 2, probably well in excess of three hours in length, lacks a fugue anywhere. Also of interest is how none of the full orchestral Sorabji works feature a major fugue movement (Sorabjis counterpoint merging with full instrumental forces would surely have been unique to behold!). In reference to the aforementioned idea of accessibility, Sorabjis best fugues utilize familiar mottos that help ground the listener. The Dies Ir theme, for example, is used in three fugues the finale of the Variations, Opus Archimagicum and Sequentia Cyclica super Dies Ir. Unique to Opus Archimagicum is the way in which each fugue subject is based on a pre-existing motto or idea the Bromage motto, the B-A-C-H motto and the Dies Ir theme. Rather than being reduced to a soup of textural density and dissonant angularity, these elements stand out and connect directly with the listener. Also fascinating from a purely structural angle is Sorabjis technique of sticking three or more fugues that are completely independent from one another back-to-back, using a sometimes virtuoso nexus as glue. This method is seen chiefly in Piano Symphony No. 6, with something of an antecedent in Piano Symphony No. 3. This method offers to the listener the idea of constant contrast and change within a clear-cut fugal context. Here is a breakdown of the Fuga finale for Piano Sonata V (Opus Archimagicum): DUX PRIMUS

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First subject begins with the G-A-B-E Bromage motto (first four notes). All five voices enter and their countersubjects are developed and inverted over the course of this section. Stretto 1 occurs, reiterating the entrance of all five voices on the Bromage motto. DUX ALTER The second subject enters, the first six notes straight from the intro of the Dies Ir theme. Once again, all five voices enter and are developed and expanded with their countersubjects. A climax occurs where the second subject is played out against the counterpoint in large chords. DUX TERTIUS The third theme is a skittish staccato theme in sixteenths beginning on the B-A-C-H motto (first four notes). As always, the five voices enter and develop the theme and its countersubject to the maximum breaking point. CODA STRETTA This concluding section pits all of the themes together against one another, exploding into a cascade of chords. Dies Ir occurs in a canon in the treble and bass, supporting and/or contrasting the inner voices. The final pages explode into a rapid-fire succession of chords, with the B-A-C-H theme taking final precedence over everything, ending the work in B Minor.

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