If you have heard of American composer Peter Schickele (b. 1939), it is probably because of his musical antics as P.D.Q. Bach or his Public Radio International (PRI) program, Schickele Mix. In either case, these means of acquaintance would probably leave you surprised to know that Schickele is also a “serious” composer. It surprised me. His broad humor as the unknown Bach has never been to my taste, though his PRI program is very engaging and one of the best musical education efforts widely available on radio.
The only thing I object to in Schickele Mix is the standard opening announcement that the program is “dedicated to the proposition that all music is created equal.” This is a preposterous proposition. Is all poetry equal? Is a bottle of Thunderbird equal to a 1987 Caymus Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon? Is “Who Let the Dogs Out?” on the same plane as a Mozart aria? Even though enologically and musically challenged people may prefer the former, I don’t think so. And the reasons can be objectively stated.
Schickele’s abuse of the Declaration of Independence is somewhat ameliorated by his next statement: “Or as Duke Ellington said, ‘If it sounds good, it is good.'” This reminds me of the kind of thing I used to say to relax nervous yuppies when I was giving wine-appreciation seminars: “Don’t worry. It’s okay to enjoy the wine you’re already drinking; you’ll catch on later.” Schickele’s remarks are in the same spirit, intended to draw in an audience otherwise intimidated by the terrors of classical music. (Do not infer from these remarks that I in any way denigrate the wonderful music of Duke Ellington.)
When I heard Schickele’s First String Quartet, American Dreams, more than a decade ago, I was thoroughly entranced and actually became angry. I thought, why is this man horsing around with sophomoric musical parodies when he can write music like this? I had not heard a composer so capture the heart of the American musical idiom since Aaron Copeland.
The answer is that Schickele has actually composed more than 100 works for symphony orchestra, choral groups, chamber ensemble, voice, movies, and television. In the New York Times, music critic John Rockwell wrote that Schickele is playing a “leading role in the ever-more-prominent school of American composers who unselfconsciously blend all levels of American music.” Yet Schickele’s “serious” music has not been available on CD except for an RCA Victor recording of the First String Quartet in 1988. Now, two new CDs provide an opportunity to size up Rockwell’s critical appraisal, at least as far as Schickele’s chamber music goes.
The Arabesque label has released a radiant recording of Schickele’s Sextet for Strings, String Quartet No. 2, and the Quintet No. 2 for Piano and Strings, with the Lark Quartet (augmented as necessary). On the Centaur label, the Audubon Quartet, which recorded the now deleted RCA CD of Schickele’s First Quartet, offers a new rendition of String Quartet No. 1, American Dreams, along with first recordings of Quintet No. 1 for Piano and Strings and String Quartet No. 5, A Year in the Country.
Rockwell was essentially right— though Schickele is not exactly “unselfconsciously” blending all levels of American music. He is very deliberate about it. I think that Rockwell must have meant that Schickele, given his gift, can do it intuitively, for that is how his music sounds. Square dance and hoedown music, blues-inspired harmonies, boogie-woogie jazz, country waltzes, Appalachian fiddle, and other folk music weave in and out of his works with a kind of quicksilver ease. (There are no references to the 20th-century avant-garde music of America or any other country.)
Of his First Quartet, Schickele wrote, “There are several kinds of American music echoed in the quartet, but they are usually transformed or combined or interrupted or given a feeling of distance; hence the subtitle ‘American Dreams.’ The material is almost all original the only actual quotes occur in the fourth movement—but the influence of the various folk styles pervades the whole work.” Much of this statement applies to all of these chamber works. As does the perspicacious remark of a member of the audience who said to him: “Congratulations: You’ve written a string quartet that doesn’t sound European.” With Schickele, there is no mistaking the American idiom. (This may have been implanted by his studies with another inimitably American composer, Roy Harris.)
Despite the razzle-dazzle and energetic fun, Schickele’s rich-sounding music can be rather simple and direct. Sometimes, it is no more than a single, gorgeous melodic line over string ostinato, or two violins playing single notes to and around each other— sounding each other out, as it were, in a pained embrace as they search for a way to express the heartfelt sorrow of In Memoriam or the playful joy of A Year in the Country. It is music not from the head but the hearth. In this, it has its lineage in Dvorak. (Schickele repeatedly stresses his love for the chamber music of Dvorak, Brahms, and Schumann.)
This is sweet, down-home music, written without condescension. It is the genuine article, with wonderful freedom of expression and depth of feeling. Directly communicative, Schickele’s music is about human experience, often with nature—refracted through popular idioms of American music that are, in their turn, assimilated into classical forms.
The Fifth Quartet is full of playful evocations of nature in the spirit, say, of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The Birds movement is expressed by darting strings and bird song, followed by the humorous Bugs movement’s pizzicato scurrying. The more reflective movements in all of these works—Music at Dawn in Quartet No. 1, the Prelude and Elegy in Quartet No. 2, and Spring Dawn in Quartet No. 5—are full of sweet heartache and nostalgia. Schickele’s Seond String Quartet, written in memory of his late brother-in-law, shows a real depth of utterance and is deeply moving. The endearing String Sextet is a tribute to Brahms, at least in form, and the scintillating Second Piano Quintet tips its hat both to Brahms and Schumann.
Having immersed myself in these six chamber works, I daresay I could now pick out a Schickele work in a blind audition. Such a distinctive style is usually a sign of major talent. Or it could mean that Schickele has limited himself to a group of easily identifiable stock gestures the riffs, the looping musical swirls, and the chugging bass strings that imitate a locomotive, while the upper registers of the violins sound the whistle—that I hear in nearly every work. One would have to hear more to make a judgment. Given the enormous enjoyment I have derived from this music, I am eager to do so. (How I wish I had heard the premiere of his Symphony No. 1, Songlines, here in Washington D.C., played by the National Symphony Orchestra under Leonard Slatkin.) Given the wonderfully animated performances on these CDs, I hope that the Lark and Audubon Quartets will team up to give us the rest of Schickele’s chamber music.
The recording industry should pay closer attention to this man, and Schickele should give the buffoon P.D.Q. Bach a decent burial and concentrate his substantial talents on “serious” music. Meanwhile, you should indulge in this high-spirited entertainment. I call it that because it is so immensely enjoyable—popular classical music in the best sense of the term.