Jennifer Higdon’s orchestral piece, “Blue Cathedral,” has received much praise from musical critics and lay listeners alike for its otherworldly sound and simple yet climactic composition filled with the interplay between a broader, deeper backdrop of sectional harmonics and a rather intimate interaction of two solo instruments. Although primarily written by Higdon after being commissioned by the Curtis Institute of Music to commemorate its 75th anniversary, many listeners have understood the piece to be more than a celebration; in fact, as Higdon has expressed that her younger brother’s sudden death deeply influenced her writing process, critics have taken to the idea that “Blue Cathedral” strives to emulate a grander journey through life, including inevitable progressions of grief, delicate and transcendent memorials, moments of blaring triumph, as well as a cathartic yet peaceful end.

After several listening’s of my own, I wanted to use this blog post as a place to express my own ideas and reflections of the musical techniques and effects of this piece. Overall, the two components that struck me the most throughout the 12 minute composition were (1) the progression of musical techniques that pointed to eventful phases, climactic points, and transformations of mood reflecting phases of life, despite the piece being written in a single movement and (2) the noticeable interaction between the flute and clarinet that was maintained in the primary and final perceived “sections” of the piece that resembled an interwoven journey of two characters or entities that experience the ebbs and flows of excitement, dissonance, as well as peace in the song. The widely understood “heavenly” characteristic of the piece was communicated to me as well, and I personally saw the use of long, flowing, higher register harmonics as well as the more delicate echoes of chime-like instrument as a way of ushering in the audience to a trance-like world that reflects the experience of smaller, quainter individuals/sounds(flute, clarinet, and other higher winds) that are shaped by the powerful and transforming environment(harmonics and orchestral melodies) yet triumphantly persist throughout, together. The relationship between those individual and communal sounds may not necessarily tell a detailed and clearly structured narrative, but the interaction does experience changes such as more high-tension periods as well as a co-balanced nature, and perhaps invites listeners to reflect on their own values and perspectives in facing a largely turbulent and changing world. Although Higdon has personally expressed her overwhelming grief and reevaluation of life’s meaning following her own tragedy, as listeners, we can only speculate the details of the composer’s exact laments and intents; “Blue Cathedral,” to me, is then especially effective in that it proposes a reflective surface to explore our divergent ideas about self-versus -life rather than reach specific conclusions. There is a hopeful beginning and a peaceful end, and the journey taken in between prompts us to think and muse for ourselves as we follow the process of the soloists and are enveloped by the shifting environments of sound.

I’ve based the following observations in three parts, each segment contrasting with the next in terms of timbre, mood, and focal instruments or sections. Although there are no clear “movements,” some melodies and solos reappear and develop in different parts of the piece:

The piece begins with the soft ringing of percussion instruments like the glockenspiel, crotales, and chimes, creating a shimmering sensation that breaks the silence. A sense of expectation is heightened through this delicate chiming, and soon, the cellos and violins start to play in sets of two harmonies in between the percussion sounds. The harmonies played are almost exclusively major, and as they ascend, they establish a floating, resonating sound. The triad harmonies then echo throughout the whole string section, and no particular rhythm or pulse is established (sometimes in 4/5 beats but mostly unstructured), until the flute enters with a solo that repeats three notes climbing up the scale and loosely develops in the high registers. As the rest of the orchestra plays almost cautious and muted harmonies and the soloist plays more outstanding melodies that take more leaps around the scale, the idea of a focal individual within a grander community is exercised. At about a minute and half into the first section, the clarinet joins the flute, and the two seem to “loop” or intertwine each other; as the clarinet plays more drawn out notes, the flute jumps in three notes upwards and makes sudden leaps while developing this pattern, and the clarinet also appears in between “breaths” of the flute’s singing melody. Low and high strings crescendo in long, flowing notes, and in contrast to the pronounced melodies of the duet, create a harmony-based foundation for the two in accompanying keys as if to add a sense of resonance or fullness to the delicate, quicker, and more playful sounds of the individuals. Due to this relationship, the two winds’ tunes seem to soar through the sky looping and surpassing each other in their melodic trails but the sky, or the atmosphere, is stretched above and below them with the fuller sounds of the low and high strings, later joined by the brass. I interpreted this beginning section as the beginning of a journey for the two entities, beckoned by the chiming of “bell-like” percussions and ushered in through the encapsulating strings’ harmonies, ultimately represented by the flowing flute and clarinet melodies filling in the silences/gaps in each other’s tunes as if to circle each other in flight. Briefly joined by the violin’s solo, the tunes of the two primary instruments can be seen as encountering other sounds along the way, as the three then modulate to a climax in which the entire orchestra crescendos to a crash of the cymbals, signifying a dramatic high point and the beginning of the next “section.”

After the first section builds to a climax, the brass joins in a fanfare-like melodies at the three minute mark, and the high strings especially interact with the lower brass melodies until the two briefly enter in and out of minor, more dissonant harmonies, even if only for instants. In contrast to the primary section which is almost exclusively in ascending melodies and harmonies, the second section creates a more urgent and contemplative mood by the quickened pace, the pronounced tossing of harmonies from brass to string, and the brief absence of the main soloists. Although the mood of the section is not especially dissonant, the faster pace, louder volume, and fuller orchestral harmonies proclaim one major climax of the piece, whether through conflict or major event. If the first section was gradually introductory of two main players, the second seems to have swept up the two tunes which disappear into the larger conversation of the “environment” or the harmonies. The utilization of a wider section percussion, including bass drum, tympani, and metal instruments, also takes away from the delicate and twinkling sensation that first entered the piece, and creates a sensation of developing chaos, in both joy and sadness. The sudden quieting and the following silence of the once lively instruments create the impression that something has come to an abrupt end, and has reached more peaceful culminations.

In the third section, at about four and a half minutes in, this aforementioned “peace” is expressed through the fact that snippets of the beginning section start to reappear, as the chiming instruments are enhanced by Chinese medicine balls and tuned glasses, and hint at the beginning with the shimmering effect and establish yet another peaceful sky-like foundation. Further, the soloists start to emerge once again, as if to have weathered the previous storm of orchestral back-and-forth’s and begin interacting above dampened major harmonies, retaining their original focal attention. Although unlike sonata form, the initial section is not repeated in exactly the same form, the piece creates a familiar enough understanding of the leaping, singing tunes of the clarinet and flute to foreshadow their diversified yet noticeable returns following the full-blown climax of the piece. This is then developed into more dampened, minor chords played by the strings, setting the foundation for a the most dissonant tune encountered thus far, played by a French horn soloist. The bells in the percussion section keep a certain sense of “time,” breeding a sense of urgency as the horn plays descending melodies, and is joined by the winds and high strings, until another buildup is created by the cymbals. All the while, the shimmering percussion now play at quicker, organized paces, as if to hurry their movement to the climax.
Strings play shriller harmonies that make leaps in threes, and then these are echoed by the brass instruments, as the two build upon each other.

Suddenly, a brass frenzy starts to take full effect, in more -war like melodies than ever before, over the constant two notes played back and forth by lower strings, and the bold focal point of the brass melody creates a sense of anger or franticness. The flute and clarinet start to Staccato together as if on a journey of two, in quickened downward scales, the two instruments almost joining into one sound amidst the chaotic throw of brass pronunciation. At about 7 and a half minutes in, shimmering clinks of glasses can be heard clearly, and the bells hint at the urgency of time alongside a bold melody by horn and noodling on the violin. Personally, this entire section built up to what seemed like a train or airborne vehicle whisking past turbulent weather, and every time the original soloists were heard, my listening heightened a sense of imminent danger and simultaneous hope for the two. Following a trumpet series joined by bass instruments, closure is reached around nine minutes in, as the sound of the orchestra softens with low, falling notes by lower brass. A floating environment for the two “characters” are established once again, and the violins echo their sound. The flute returns to its three note upward progression until it unexpectedly falls out and only the clarinet remains. Shimmering sounds continue in the background, but instead of a new beginning, the sound is rather reminiscent of a final snow or rainfall. The piano breaks out three, finalistic notes, like a beckon towards heaven, as the sound is light and pure, a deep contrast to the fanfare yet not in any way dissonant. The grand journey ends with a quiet chime of percussion, providing a sense of closure and a larger cyclical scheme, as if to have returned to the same sounds that the piece was first built upon. I was left satisfied by the consonant ending, and felt as if I had travelled through several musical frenzies and storms with the soloists I both trailed and lost at certain points in the piece.

In relation to the other musical pieces and themes we have studied this semester, “Blue Cathedral,” a tonal poem, resembles the music of many program music writers in this sense. As the original writers of tonal or symphonic poems strived to elicit images, ideas, or scenes through instrumental music without being limited to the confines of conventional and structured forms like sonata, “Blue Cathedral” represents a fit modern expression of this idea. “Blue Cathedral” then can be likened to pieces such as “Sposalizio” by Liszt, a major program music writer, because although “Sposalizio” does not completely lack form, it was written with a new interpretation of traditional forms that allowed for more flexibility to express moods and ideas. Further, “Sposalizio” was also connected to other sources, a main factor of tonal poems themselves; although tonal poems do not illustrate strict narratives and are absent of verbal explanation because it is completely instrumental, “Blue Cathedral” and “Sposalizio” alike are still linked to external sources of inspiration and subject matter, whether it is a treasured painting, the commemoration of an institution, or the death of a loved one. Neither pieces serve to explicitly establish these themes, but rather suggest them, and do so through the challenge of expressing ideas through strictly instrumental progressions. Further, “Blue Cathedral” tackles the idea of community vs. individual within music in a way that resembles pieces like Vivaldi’s Concerto for Violin and Cello in B-flat major. Vivaldi’s concerto too features two main musicians being echoed and accompanied through the other communal strings, and the piece is even performed in such a way that traditionally the two performers will be surrounded by a semi-circle of the accompaniments. In “Blue Cathedral,” although this highlight is not as physically obvious, the clarinet and flute always reappear in the major sections and are thoroughly supported by the string and brass sections when they take center stage. Both pieces reflect the focus onto two instruments which is eventually enhanced and emulated by a larger community of sound.

In conclusion, “Blue Cathedral” defies many  of the formal structures and formulaic musical styles our class has studied for the semester, with the absence of clear meter, pulse, or major key center, but it works effectively as a piece of music through the interplay of individual soloists and grander musical themes played orchestra-wide, and the choice in unusual chiming instruments with “shimmering” sounds, contrasted with the resonant/ringing bellows of low-register strings and brass successfully create an otherworldly or galaxy-like backdrop to more closely examined melodies of two solo instruments. The piece prompts me to reflect on the journey the music takes, following the ebbs and flows as I actively seek out the flute and clarinet as reoccurring or familiar tunes to which I can focus my listening while still being immersed in the bold and flowing qualities of the accompanying harmonies.

-Rebecca Lim, Music 27