4/26/20

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Christopher Rouse (1949-2019)

I remember hearing the news only a few days after Christopher Rouse passed away, having recently checked out his piece Gorgon from the music library in Blair. At the time (fall semester of 2019) I was studying with Michael Alec Rose, who was a student of Rouse’s at the esteemed Eastman School of Music. In my next lesson with Dr. Rose I passed along my condolences and started into a conversation about how Christopher Rouse approached composition (which I will get into later). I personally had the incredible pleasure to meet Christopher Rouse in person during my interviews at the Juilliard School (where he had taught composition since 1997), back in February of 2018. I also remember my interview with Rouse being one of my better ones out of the five, and in no small part because a portion of our discussion was based on our mutual admiration for Jean Sibelius. Even before that trip, however, I deeply admired Rouse’s neo-romantic style, and so it was a great honor to meet him and equally painful to hear of his passing.

Gorgon is one of Christopher Rouse’s most atonal works, and certainly acts as a challenge for many listeners. Inspired by the three monsters of Greek mythology, Rouse wrote the following in the programs notes for the piece: “These three mythical monsters — Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa — were repulsive beasts with snakes for hair and tusks for teeth; on their shoulders were immense wings of gold. But so hideous were their faces that a single glance from any of them was enough to turn any human unfortunate enough to come across them into solid stone. Medusa, the only mortal of the trio, was ultimately slain by Perseus, who avoided direct eye contact with his deadly prey by following her reflected form in his shield.” Additionally, later on he adds the following statements: “Since the time of the ancient Greeks, the gorgon has become a symbol for any terror too immense — and too horrible — to be faced. It has thus become an image of sublimated brutality and savagery, perhaps a metaphor for our own private and subconscious monsters.” and “In addition to certain intentional similarities common to musical materials from movement to movement, the unifying force throughout the score remains the consistent violence of its character and the fearsomeness of its subject.” I imagine that those statements construct a pretty clear image of the piece, so in light of that I’ll spare you all the thorough musical analysis (but don’t start thinking that it’ll become a habit).

Perhaps the most distinct memory of my conversation with Dr. Rose was when he quoted Rouse with saying something like “Composing is the second hardest thing I have to do in my life, only beat out by not composing.” Rose went on to say how he himself is the exact opposite, explaining how composing is one of the great sources of joy in his own life. He also mentioned how you can hear that aspect of Rouse’s personality in his music - you can hear how he labored over every composition in order to perfect every aspect. The discussion truly made me think about my own approach to composition, and whether or not I find it to be taxing or liberating. In full honesty, I have days of each, and as a perfectionist I often find it difficult to set down a piece and call it ‘done.’ In that same lesson with Dr. Rose, I mentioned how I had recently begun studying the score of Gorgon, and he was quick to mention that this piece in particular shows just how laborious composing could be for Christopher Rouse. The piece is difficult to listen to, and relentlessly driving forward for the entire 16-18 minute length. Yet even so, it still shows how masterful Rouse was at orchestration, featuring the percussion several times and pushing all of the wind sections to the absolute limit of their endurance. The piece also shows just how evocative atonal music can be, painting a brutal picture that shows fear, danger, and persistence.

When I first heard about how difficult composing could be for Rouse, I initially felt some slight empathy for him, but I knew that is not what I should feel. While I wish that all people lead happy lives, I also had to understand that it was Rouse’s stress that led him to compose music that ranged from profoundly beautiful to overwhelmingly brutal. He understood that composing was difficult, but he also knew how unfortunate it would be if he would not have a chance to communicate his musical ideas to an audience. I see part of his struggles in myself, and I only hope to someday rise to the level of accomplishment which Christopher Rouse achieved in his life. Below I have linked a video with the score and a performance by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra. So, buckle up for the intensity of I. Stheno, the deviousness of II. Euryale, and the utter brutality of III. Medusa, because this piece is quite the ride.