Philippine Symphony: A Closer Look
Given that the UP Conservatory during Pajaro’s time of study valued the hybridization of Western music with indigenous Filipino music, how was he able to imbue Filipino musical aesthetics to his colleagues at Eastman while simultaneously developing his own musical voice? The answer can be found in his doctoral dissertation, Philippine Symphony. Completed after three years of study and one completed degree from Eastman, the Philippine Symphony stands at the edge of tradition. The harmonies are grounded in tonality, steering clear of the atonal or serialist techniques popular at the time. And yet, they are used in non-functional and ambiguous ways. A single antecedent might pass through two unrelated triads or a chorale-like gesture might be paired with a bassline in a different key. The form follows traditional structures from the Classical and Romantic eras, but does so in an obscure way. The orchestration, on the other hand, seems to abide by Bernard Rogers’s teachings the most. Rogers was on the composition faculty at Eastman from 1930-1967 and published the book The Art of Orchestration: Principles Tone Color in Modern Scoring in 1951. This book is the result of decades of experience composing and teaching, and likely made its way into Pajaro’s lessons. Pajaro’s symphony was also conducted by Howard Hanson, who probably offered his suggestions on orchestration during the workshopping phase. The “giving” of traditional yet unconventional harmonies and forms, and the “taking” of orchestration principles, forged the two-way exchange between him and Eastman, allowing Pajaro to realize his goal of creating “serious music” that reflects national pride.
Let us return to the first reading session of Pajaro’s Philippine Symphony. As the musicians are reading through their parts, they realize that they need not consider the pitches as pulling towards one particular tonic, but rather as a way of creating harmonic ambiguity. Take the opening solo, for example. The celli and basses first outline a B-flat major triad in first inversion, but then drop down to a B natural and then up a perfect fourth to E, outlining the fifth and root of an E chord; two chords that are a tri-tone apart. The second violins and violas join the celli with a chorale-like accompaniment. Their first three chords pull us back towards the “flat” keys, but gets quickly interrupted as the four string sections join together to form a C Major 7 chord; where does that fit into B-flat major? Their accompaniment is supporting the first violins who are playing an undulating figure that then gets passed to the flute. The first violin/flute figure may look like mere transition material, but it actually serves as an important motive for the rest of the movement. I call it a “countermelody,” even though it’s not working as counterpoint in this first iteration. Even within the first six measures, it’s clear that the musicians need to get used to unrelated triads and distant tonicizations. The harmony becomes more ambiguous starting at m. 13 [0:18], as the violins and woodwinds begin a linear ascent towards a cadence at m. 24 [0:28]. As the strings and woodwinds play a chromatic sequence up to a high F#, the celli and basses play an augmented version of the countermelody over the course of five bars. The horns join in on the countermelody, too, but are inverted; they follow the same intervallic sequence as the celli and basses but with the opposite contour. The big cadence that greets the musicians at m. 24 does not outline a triad at all; rather, it’s a large quintal chord spanning over three octaves, with A in the bass and F# in the soprano, filled in with E and B throughout the inner voices.
Just as the musicians are getting used to the ambiguous harmonies, they are suddenly met with a new theme, with the mood suddenly changing from dark and intense to sunny and lyrical. To those accustomed to classical formal structures, a half cadence followed by a textural gap is expected in between the two contrasting themes, as a sort of rhetorical pause. This creates what’s called a medial caesura (MC), a defining feature of two-part expositions. In eighteenth-century sonata expositions, MCs typically involved a break in sound or a noticeable decrease in energy, preparing the onset of the new theme. In the Philippine Symphony, however, the woodwinds elide into the tailend grand quintal cadence [0:29] to start a new theme. The elision is supported by the celli and basses, who end their descending bassline at the start of m. 26, rather than cutting off with the rest of the orchestra at m. 25. One could argue that the lack of a clearly-defined MC would make this a continuous exposition. However, continuous expositions are typically characterized by a “spinning out” or varied restatements of the primary theme. If you listen to the two themes at [0:00] and [0:29], though, it is clear that they are contrasting, given the meter and underlying harmonies. I propose that Pajaro separates the two themes with an obscured medial caesura, which the theorist Mark Richards defines as an “unusual treatment of either harmony or texture.” In Pajaro’s case, the MC is obscured because the cadence at m. 24 ends on a quintal chord, rather than a half cadence. Additionally, the accompaniment in the cello and bass extend into m. 26 after the secondary theme has already started. Richards would call this a doubly-obscured medial caesura, since two independent elements of a typical MC are obscured.
The secondary theme area spans longer than the first, lasting for 30 instead of 12 measures (mm. 26-56 or 0:29-0:57). This section is characterized by antiphonal contrast between the woodwinds and strings, tonicizing a new key area with every new iteration of phrase. The period phrase structures work well for the antiphonal contrast; in some instances one instrument might take on the antecedent whereas another one, from either the same or different instrument family, would take on the consequent. An example of this is from mm. 26-34 [0:29-0:36]. Here, the flute begins the phrase with a lyrical melody that straddles between G Major and E minor; while the first two notes outline a strong ^5-^1 in G Major, the next measure of the phrase ^6-^3, or ^5-^1 in E minor. The flute ends the antecedent on a B-flat unexpectedly, allowing the clarinet to finish the phrase with a consequent in B-flat minor. The violins immediately follow the clarinet with a reiteration of the antecedent in G# minor, adding rhythmic variation with dotted quarter and eighth notes. However, G# minor is quickly thwarted by the flute, as if it were never supposed to have happened; the flute ends the phrase with a consequent that fits a little more squarely into E minor, outlining ^5-^1 over in E minor over four measures. The tonicization progression of G Major/E Minor, B-flat minor, G# minor, and back to E minor occurs once more as the woodwinds and strings repeat the melody with the same call-and-response pattern. Pajaro creates variety by building on the orchestration and texture. For example, whereas only the first violins played the melody from mm. 34-37 [0:34-0:39], the second violins joined in from mm. 42-45 [0:43-0:50], adding “power” by supporting the first violins an octave lower. The woodwinds and brass also support the strings in that same section, whereas in the previous strings melody they were alone. Here, the woodwinds and brass, along with the violas and cellos, play a pulsating accompaniment as opposed to simple, sustained chords. This adds both rhythmic and textural variety.
Two sections are elided into each other once again, as the bassoon and celli begin the transition to the final section with a long stepwise ascent, as the upper strings and woodwinds end their final phrase of the secondary theme. Harmonically, this section remains within familiar key areas, cycling through E minor/G Major, A minor, and finally C# minor, relating back to the G# minor tonicization in the secondary theme. Even with familiar keys, the energy is relentless. For one, the ascending sequence continues from m. 54 all the way to m. 83 [0:55-1:20]. The bass instruments are not solely responsible for the ascent, either. The bassoon and celli end their ascent on G4 at m. 59 [0:58], leaving room for the first violins to pick up on a B-flat in m. 64 [1:02]. Alongside the first violins is the rest of the strings as well as the brass and bassoon playing an incessant dotted rhythmic pattern in unison. This figure occurs repeatedly throughout the rest of the exposition, so for clarity’s sake, I will call this figure the “X motive” hereafter. The oboe then joins the ascent by responding to the first violins a half step higher on B-natural before continuing with the ascent with their own stepwise sequence. The upper strings join the oboe at the unison in m. 70 [1:08], playing spiccato eighth notes to add textural variety. The ascent finally ends at m. 83 on an E6, almost three octaves above the start.
By m. 80, the entire orchestra joins in on the X motive, hammering it repeatedly until m. 88, at which point there’s a grand pause [1:17-1:24]. This is the first time a true break in sound occurs that can be said to divide the exposition into multiple sections. Is this the “real” medial caesura? Remember from earlier that MCs are typically composed of a half cadence followed by a textural gap, most commonly a break in sound. M. 88 lands on a C# minor chord, which is a departure from the E minor/A minor key areas from the transition. Additionally, the C# minor chord is over an F#, and the G# is in the bass of the chord, rather than the root. So even if the piece had modulated into C# minor, the cadence does not make that clear; there’s no firm chordal root to ground the harmony. While this is not a half cadence in the literal sense, it does set up the expectation for new material; the piece does not sound “done.” Both harmonically and texturally, this grand pause sounds more like a “true” MC than the one at m. 24. But MCs are what differentiate the primary theme from the secondary theme; why is there another one so late in the exposition? In this case, Pajaro is creating a double medial caesura. For Hepokoski and Darcy, a second medial caesura might occur after the secondary theme as a means to extend its thematic material and evade the essential expositional closure, the strong perfect authentic cadence that typically ends the secondary theme. In the case of the Philippine Symphony, the increase in energy, culminating in the blows from mm. 80-88 leads the listener to believe that a strong closing theme will occur. Instead, the material after the second MC restates and varies material from earlier in the exposition, creating ambiguity as to whether or not it forms a closing section or extends the secondary theme [1:24-1:56]. It begins with a stately horn and trumpet duet, performing what sounds like an augmentation of the secondary theme. The secondary theme restatement is interrupted in m. 93 [1:28] with a new ending tacked onto the end of the phrase, based on the countermelody from the opening of the piece. The secondary theme augmentation and new ending form the basis for the rest of the closing theme, as instrument families play one or the other in blocks of sound. The exposition finally ends with an E minor/G Major cadence played by the entire orchestra, giving a feeling of triumph after an exposition filled with ambiguous tonalities and frequent character changes.
