Spirits of the House

Spirits of the House was commissioned by Michael and Sonja Koerner for the inaugural concert in the Koerner Concert Hall of the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto in September 2009. Although I studied piano and composition in Toronto, my piano degree was with the Royal Schools of Music in London and my composition lessons were with John Weinzweig in the old Faculty of Music building on College Street. Nevertheless, the rubicund old Conservatory building was very familiar to me and I attended many concerts there during my student days and later. I am not a spiritualist, but I have often thought, along with Madame Blavatsky and many others, that sounds do not die but continue to echo forever in the dark spaces and starry skies. Then could we imagine all the music that has been performed in the Royal Conservatory still lingering between the rafters and the stones of this resonant building, so that with the stethoscope of our imagination we might hear them still mingling together imperishably? What I have written could be described as a quodlibet – a musical form consisting of snatches of various pieces strung together in a loose formation so that each piece rises momentarily, only to be submerged again in a texture of new sounds. From the rafters and cellars of the old building I have strung together fragments of pieces written by some of the Conservatory's most celebrated composers and teachers over three generations, conjoined with thoughts and reflections of my own.

The first work we hear is the final chorus from The Wreck of the Hesperus, a cantata based on Longfellow's poem by Arthur E. Fisher (1848 – 1912). The work received its first performance on the opening concert of Massey Hall in 1894. This is introduced by a suggestion of the storm at sea that took the lives of all passengers and crew of the fatal ship.

A short interlude leads to the opening of a Sonata for Cello and Piano by Leo Smith (1881-1952), himself an accomplished cellist. The sonata is somewhat whimsically interrupted by the Butterfly Waltz, a work by the pianist Ernest Seitz (1892 – 1978) who is best known as the composer of the ballad The World is Waiting for the Sunrise. Seitz's work is quickly invaded by a short snatch of Samuel Dolin's Prelude for John Weinzweig. I knew Samuel Dolin (1917 – 2002) as a diligent teacher of several well-known composers, including Brian Cherney, Moe Kaufmann, Michel Lontin and Ann Southam, among others. This short piano piece echoes the brevity of the Viennese atonal school that Dolin and Weinzweig were bringing to Canada in the 1950s.

Sir Ernest MacMillan (1893 – 1973) was better known as an organist and conductor than as a composer. Perhaps the earlier compositions were more adventurous and interesting but, by the time he was conducting the Toronto Symphony, his works took on a pompous diapasonal quality that we were trying to escape. Typical is the anthem, The King Shall Rejoice in Thy Strength, O Lord, which sounds like an exercise for the buttocks.

Another composer in the British tradition was Healey Willan (1880 – 1968) who is best known for his choral music; and one of his most beautiful choral pieces is the anthem Rise Up, My Love, My Fair One. We hear the work in the distance with a slight wash of sound from harp and strings.

The last piece I chose was by my teacher John Weinzweig (1903 – 2006). It is an early work, The Red Ear of Corn, which I remember hearing at its premiere as a ballet in 1949. John was probably the first Canadian to regard himself as a composer rather than a musician who also composed, and this new attitude made it possible for many of his students to take up composing as a serious career.

My quodlibet ends abruptly in the middle of The Red Ear of Corn's Tribal Dance, vanishing into a peaceful slumber, which is my last memory of John in the nursing home shortly before his death. We had eaten a light lunch together with his wife, Helen, and I had accompanied them upstairs and helped John into bed where he soon drifted off to sleep. R. Murray Schafer