"Carmina Burana" by Carl Orff
Post-World War I Germany witnessed spectacular political and artistic tumult. As Hitler consolidated the power that would inexorably lead to the Second World War, composers were searching for musical languages to replace the romanticism of Wagner and Brahms. Carl Orff (1895–1982), a young choral conductor and composer, found himself unsatisfied not only with the musical status quo, but also with the concept of the “concert” itself. In response he developed a neo-Baroque philosophy of music as an intimate marriage of words, melody, and movement that he called “elementary music.” He even fashioned a musical curriculum for children based on these principles, the “Orff Schulwerk,” which is still in use.
Orff’s first chance to try out his ideas on a large scale came in 1935, when be became acquainted with the twelfth-century poetry of the “Goliards,” a decentralized group of poor but educated poet-musicians—itinerate clerics, minstrels, academics, defrocked priests, and the like—whose ribald, secular poems in street Latin and Old German were widely recited and sung in their day. Memory of their work faded with time, but it was revived by the 1803 discovery of a manuscript containing their songs (without readable melodies) in the monastery at Benedictbeuern, Germany. Orff, always intensely interested in music, ideas, and art of the distant past, embraced this literature for its directness, simplicity, and repetitive structure, and chose two dozen of the songs to arrange into three scenes for a “scenic cantata” with dance ad libitum. He entitled the collection Carmina Burana (Songs of Beuren) after the site of their modern rediscovery. Carmina Burana was first heard in Frankfurt on June 8, 1937.
The work opens with a scornful rumination on fate, set to music that threatens to explode at any moment. The eight movements of “Spring” throw pessimism to the winds and sing the praises of the breeze, the sun, the green, and the woods. After a round dance, the men head to the second scene, “The Tavern,” where an angry misanthrope, a roasted swan, and an “abbot” of the order of gamblers sing of their fortunes and misfortunes. “The Court of Love,” with its ten enchanting and colorful songs, tells of young love both returned and spurned. Then, with a crashing chord, the glow is extinguished, and inexorable fate returns along with the roiling music of the opening chorus. This union of lusty medieval poetry with Orff’s “elementary music” elicited strong opinions both positive and negative. Its critics despised the lack of invention, absence of development, harmonic stasis, and endless repetition. Ironically, these are some of the elements that audiences find the most gripping—not to mention the visceral intensity of the rhythm and the vast percussion section—including two pianos and five timpani—that supports it.
Orff felt so strongly about what he had achieved in Carmina that he renounced his previous work and concentrated on refining his “elementary music.” His subsequent compositions were greeted respectfully by the musical community but only one of them found its way into the repertoire. Nonetheless, Orff lived long enough to see Carmina Burana become one of the most recognized and popular choral works of the twentieth century, even if seldom performed with dance.
Program Notes by Gordon Paine