Gustav Holst
The Planets, Op. 32
Gustav Holst was born in Cheltenham, England in 1874 and died in London in 1934. He completed The Planets in 1916, and it was first performed in London in 1918 by the New Queen’s Hall Orchestra, Adrian Boult conducting. The work is scored for offstage female chorus, 4 flutes, 2 piccolos, alto flute, 4 oboes, English horn, bass oboe, 4 clarinets, bass clarinet, 4 bassoons, contrabassoon, 6 horns, 4 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, tenor tuba, timpani (2 players), percussion, 2 harps, celeste, organ, and strings.
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Gustav Holst had intriguingly diverse interests. On the one hand he was devoted to the rich tradition of English folk music; he collected and catalogued authentic folk tunes with his lifelong friend Vaughan Williams, and used them frequently in his own music. On the other, he was fascinated by Eastern religions; he even learned Sanskrit in order to translate and set to music parts of the Hindu Rig Veda. With his head in the cosmos—but with his feet firmly planted in his folk heritage—you could say he was uniquely prepared to compose The Planets.

Holst had wanted to compose a large-scale piece for some time. He even had a title:  Seven Pieces for Large Orchestra. But it was not until a friend had introduced him to astrology that Holst found a ruling metaphor. He would call his work The Planets, but he would treat them in the astrological sense, not the astronomical.

The Planets has no program as such. “These pieces were suggested by the astrological significance of the planets,” Holst wrote.  “There is no program music in them, neither have they any connection with the deities of classical mythology bearing the same names. If any guide to the music is required, the subtitles to each piece will be found sufficient, especially if they are used in a broad sense.” Each movement is a character piece, a musical metaphor for the influence of each ruling planet. The Planets, then, is a work about the human experience, not the cosmic.

So ominous is Mars, the Bringer of War that many have taken it as Holst’s reaction to the bloody madness that was the World War One; actually, Holst had sketched the movement prior to the war’s outbreak. Nevertheless, the sounds of strings being struck with the wood of the bow, the relentless drums, and the boiling harmonies together paint a sonic likeness of evil.

The static backgrounds of Venus, the Bringer of Peace appear frozen in a luminous serenity. Against them, the sweet melody first given by the solo violin and the response introduced by the oboe weave a layer of depth that sounds deceptively simple.

Mercury, the Winged Messenger takes flight as the work’s nominal scherzo, with the musical line deftly flying back and forth among the instruments. The destination is a flowing, restless melody of uncommon grace.

The composer’s intentions aside, it is hard to avoid the astronomical implications of the opening of Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity. This music is big, and big-hearted, as if celebrating a bold frontier of unimaginable scale. Holst wrote: “Jupiter brings jollity in the ordinary sense, and also the more ceremonial kind of rejoicing associated with religious or national festivities.” The joyous celebration is most poignant in a central hymn tune of noble beauty.

According to Holst, “Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age brings not only physical decay, but also a vision of fulfillment.” Accordingly, the music’s fateful gait inspires dread and wonder in equal measure.

The ominous opening of Uranus, the Magician reminds us of the sorcerer’s dark side, even as the music turns more playful. Holst performs his own musical sleight-of-hand with orchestration that simply sparkles.

The ethereal opening of Neptune, the Mystic brings us to the outer reaches of Holst’s astrological cosmos, and the destination of the suite: the physical world is left behind and we reach the inner workings of the mind. Holst’s portrayal is unsettled, ever searching; the contradictory aspects of human nature are not reconciled here. But perhaps, as the gossamer strands of the wordless chorus drift back into the infinite silence from which they came, they are transcended.