Sibelius: Rakastava (“The Lover”)– Suite for strings and percussion, Op.14 (1893 – 1911)               

1. Rakastava (“The Lover”)
2. Rakastetun tie (“The Way of the Lover”)
3. Hyvää iltaa…Jää hyvästi (“Goodnight…Farewell”)

This piece has a peculiarly involved history: in 1893, Sibelius set some verses from Book I of Elias Lönnrot’s collection of folk poetry, Kanteletaar, for male voice choir; the following year, he rearranged the work – already called Rakastava – with string accompaniment, and in 1898 made a further version for unaccompanied mixed chorus. In 1911, Rakastava underwent a complete transformation, and this suite is the result. Although much of the material does not entirely disguise its origin in an earlier period of Sibelius’s career, the composer’s treatment of it clearly reveals the experienced and rigorously disciplined hand which had recently penned such masterpieces as The Bard and Symphony No.4 – particularly so in the middle movement, which gathers together suggested fragments into a subtly defined melodic shape (which, ironically, had already existed in the choral versions). An expected waltz-like central section aborts after just three bars, thus setting up the scale of the recapitulation which, exactly as in the aforementioned symphony’s scherzo, is compressed into the merest illusion, closing the piece in a wisp of fragile sound. The delicate textures of this movement also confirm absolute identity with the new medium, whereas certain chordal passages in the outer movements do betray to a small extent their choral origins – as also does the stanza-like structure of the opening movement.

The black sound of the men’s chorus in the Kullervo Symphony of 1892 must surely have been vividly in his mind as he first set to work on Rakastava the following year, just as the experience of composing a string quartet in 1909 (i.e. Voces Intimae) would understandably have inspired him to write more string music (there is evidence that some of the material in the fourth symphony actually grew out of sketches for another quartet). But that Rakastava should exist in so many entirely different yet totally idiomatic versions is truly remarkable; further evidence of Sibelius’s fine ear for sound lies in his judicious and sparing deployment of the timpani in the outer movements and the triangle in “The Way of the Lover” – however frustrating for the player this might be! Furthermore, Rakastava represents a unique and precious glimpse into a particularly tender spot of this normally formidable man’s heart, nowhere more poignant than at the opening of “Goodnight…Farewell”, where originally a solo tenor (now a solo violin) sings of the sad pangs of parting.

Alan George
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