Fuga Indiana


TO THE SHOP Arto Koskinen Fuga indiana Seven piano compositions representing a new synthesis of Asian, European and Afro-American classical traditions. Load .mp3 files Fuga libera. 5.34Mb Triamonia. 6.14Mb Prelude 2.48 FIAM30400006 Fantasia in Saranga 7.17 FIAM30400007 Fuga indiana 10.29 FIAM30400008 Fuga libera 5.42 FIAM30400009 Triamonia 6.34 FIAM30400010 Fantasia in Yaman 9.07 FIAM30400011 Fuga seria 12.16 FIAM30400012 Total time 55.04 Arto Koskinen, compositions Arto Koskinen, piano Recorded: at Sound Track studio in Helsinki (Finland) Autumn 1999 (track 5) and at Arabia Studios, Helsinki, Autumn 2000 (tracks 2, 4, 6) and Spring 2001 (tracks 1, 3, 7). Recording Engineers: Mika Grönholm (Sound Track) and Rene Sirén (Arabia) Editor: Matti Saarinen Cd mastering by Editroom Oy, Helsinki. Cover Design: Lauri Linnilä Photo: Tommi Parko Executive Producer: Kai Linnilä (P) 2004 ©2005 Oy Amanita Ltd ama0402 FUGA INDIANA A new synthesis of Eastern and Western music Arto Koskinen The music in this collection is a synthesis, perhaps novel in some respects, of Asian, European, and Afro-American traditions. The classical music of North India, the Western tradition of polyphonic composition, and Afro-American improvised music are its main sources. While it has seemed to many that such diverse types of music are practically incompatible, each having its own “aesthetics”, my conviction is that this seeming incompatibility is only a surface phenomenon: that at the deepest level they are fully commensurate and that there is ultimately only one aesthetic, one great logic of beauty, which manifests itself in different but complementary forms in the music of various continents and cultural eras. This view of the essence of music was formed gradually in my youth, way back in the 1960s. After early studies of classical piano, I developed an enthusiasm for jazz in my teens. Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Miles Davis, and John Coltrane were my heroes. A few years later I turned my attention to the world of rock. In 1967, when I was twenty, I heard the concert of Jimi Hendrix in Helsinki. To my mind, the significance of this powerful music was nothing less than world-historical. I saw in Hendrix the culmination of the blues tradition and, by virtue of the decisively modal character of his guitar playing, a deep kinship with the melodic spirit of Asian music. In jazz, the modal style of Coltrane formed a similar link between Western and Eastern music. I was convinced that the real vanguard in the evolution of Western music was represented by these giants of Afro-American music and not by the intellectually constructed atonality of European modernism. During the 1970s, however, I felt increasingly that the truly creative spirit had departed from the mainstream of Afro-American music and that this spirit could now be found only by delving deeper into Asian music. My idea was that, just as the rhythmic verve of Afro-American music had vitalised Western music in the 20th century, so in the same way its spiritualization, or re-spiritualization, by the melodic essence of Eastern music would be the logical next step. This seemed all the more natural in view of the fact that the modal melodic concept had been revived not only in Afro-American music, but also in the neo-modal style of Sibelius and other European composers. By the end of the 1960s, I had already heard a good deal of classical Indian music on record. In this I was very much helped by Pekka Gronow, the noted musicologist and a pioneer in promoting the knowledge of non-European musical cultures in Finland. I admired the dignified style of Muttuswami Dikshitar, one of the greatest of the South Indian composers. It was North Indian or Hindustani music, however, which on the whole affected me most strongly. The ethos of this music has, first of all, the general character of profundity and serenity, enhanced by the prominence of slow tempi, sustained notes, subtle inflections and extremely gradual melodic ascent. Secondly, the gradual increase of rhythmic intensity, together with the equally gradual widening of the melodic range, gives Hindustani music its climax-oriented and dramatic structure. Thirdly, between the two extremes of deep tranquillity and explosive intensity, there is a whole gamut of feeling-tones, ranging from sadness to joy and pervaded by a general aura of tenderness, longing and commiseration (the so-called Karuna rasa). A remarkable feature in outstanding performances of Hindustani music is how the opposite extremes of this expressive continuum merge into one so that the slow and tranquil sections are pervaded by a sense of inner activity and vigilance and, conversely, the basic feeling of serenity is maintained even in the most frenzied climaxes. I am not saying that this inner relatedness and mutual penetration of of activity and tranquillity is a monopoly of Indian music. On the contrary, it is a mark of excellence in all music. The achievements of Bach and Beethoven are sublime examples of it in Western music. In jazz, one only has to think of Charlie Parker - his complete confidence and relaxation even in the most furious tempi and his intense, elaborate, yet perfectly balanced phrasing in slow ballads – to realize in concreto what Hegel means by Spirit as the dynamic unification of opposites or what the Chinese philosophers mean by the harmony of yin and yang. There is no doubt, however, that the wide rhythmic as well as melodic spectrum of Hindustani music offers exceptional possibilities for manifesting this fundamental aesthetic quality. The recordings of Indian master musicians convinced me of this completely. The fusion of opposities into a higher unity was characteristic of outstanding vocalists such as Faiyaz Khan, Amir Khan, and Moinuddin Dagar, as well as of such pre-eminent instrumentalists as the sitarist Ravi Shankar and the sarodist Ali Akbar Khan. With all its expressive versatility, Ravi Shankar’s playing had the overall character of dynamic balance and extraordinary elegance. For this reason his music struck me first and foremost as being classical in spirit. Ali Akbar Khan, with his prayer-like inwardness, uncanny polyrhythmic mastery and explosive power, provided a slightly different, but equally convincing demonstration of the dynamic union of opposites as a universally valid aesthetic principle. (The elegant style of Ravi Shankar was comparable to Palestrina or Mozart, whereas the dynamism of Ali Akbar was more reminiscent of Josquin Desprez and Beethoven.) Like all great artists, these musicians proved in practice the falsity of aesthetical relativism which denies universal values. Among the Western classical performers who affected me most strongly, the German-Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter was equally outstanding in terms of the intensity of his playing as Bud Powell was among jazz pianists. Richter’s power, like that of Powell and Ali Akbar, came from within, from his profound concentration. Silent devotion and ecstatic rhythmic movement are the seed and the flower of music, and Richter’s ability to maintain their living unity made him the true heir of Ferruccio Busoni and Artur Schnabel as the chief representative of what I would call the ethical lineage of classical pianism. The classical composers who inspired me in the 1960s continued to do so through the following decades. Yet I must say that, while at the beginning I was mainly attracted by their melodic gift, it was only much later that I learned fully to appreciate the polyphonic aspect of their music. The incomparable majesty of Handel, the graceful elegance of Mozart, the fervent longing of Chopin, the mystic inwardness of Sibelius - these formed the “Western constellation” in the sowing season of my musical development. The profundity and vastness of Bach and Beethoven, while present right from the start, assumed ascendancy some thirty years later. However, the polyrhythmic thinking of Beethoven; the vitality of his off-beat accents, back beats, rhythmic anticipations, etc., was a major influence all along. In the mid-1960s, I read a very interesting Ravi Shankar interview in the Down Beat magazine. Commenting on the possibility of combining Indian and Western music, he said that something really new and beautiful could be discovered in this field, provided that one knows both musics equally well. This idea became the guiding principle of my musical search for all years to come. Yet I could hardly suspect at that time how long its adequate realization would take. I started playing Afro-American music professionally in 1967, in such groups as the rock band Jormas and the experimental ensemble of M.A. Numminen, but from 1970 onwards I spent most of my time on exploring the possibilities of a new synthesis of Western and Indian music. I studied composition on my own, benefiting immensely from the great treatise on composition by Ilmari Krohn. As far as I know, his thorough treatment of the principles of melody remains unequalled to this day. These principles are based on mathematical and tonal relations between consonant and dissonant intervals. Together with the aesthetical-ethical qualitites essentially connected with them, these tonal relations constitute the melodic logic of all music. I felt it was in Indian music (which neither shuns dissonances nor makes a fetish of them) that this dialectical relation between consonances and dissonances found its most systematic application. This strengthened my decision to study it as deeply as possible. All through these years I made extensive transcriptions of recorded performances of Indian music. I knew that, unlike jazz and rock, Indian music - owing to its greater complexity - cannot really be mastered by this method. Nevertheless, my work on these transcriptions served as effective ear training. It made me familiar with the general features of many of the basic raga-s and helped me, when I went to India, to pick up new material quickly. Of the many books on Indian music which I read in those years (and later), I must especially mention N.A. Jairazbhoy’s great work, The Rags of North Indian Music, which came out in 1971. This study revealed the all-pervading role of perfect consonances (the octave, the fourth, and the fifth) and also the dynamic function of dissonances as structural principles of melody-formation in Indian music. In particular, it showed the importance of tetrachordal symmetry as a basic principle of melodic movement. This principle means that melodic figures tend to be repeated - in identical or varied form - at a distance of perfect fourths and fifths. Jairazbhoy’s detailed demonstration of the consistent application of this quartal and quintal parallelism in Indian music convinced me completely of the possibility of an organic synthesis of Eastern and Western music, since I was already aware of the importance of this same parallelism in Western music, above all in the fugue, but notably also in the harmonic and melodic basis of the blues which forms the backbone of Afro-American music. Another, equally fundamental melodic principle in classical Indian music is the gradual melodic ascent from the ground-note to its higher octave. This climax-oriented melodic structure is, together with quartal and quintal symmetry, an architectonic principle in the classical musics of other Asian civilizations as well. A striking Western parallel can be seen in the evolution of the blues: in the gradually ascending guitar solos of B.B. King and in the blossoming of this dramatic style of improvisation in Jimi Hendrix. This feature, combined with his consistent and innovative use of tetrachordal symmetries and the revolutionary way in which he extended blues tonality along the series of subdominants, constituted the singularity of Hendrix among all the Western musicians who inspired me to take up a systematic study of Eastern music. (Western harmony is traditionally characterized by a predominance of the series of dominants or the “half-circle” of ascending fifths: C, G, D, A, etc. The evolution of the blues in the 1960s - which amounted to a revolution in terms of Western music as a whole - consisted in complementing this one-sided tendency with an emphasis on the subdominant series, or the half-circle of descending fifths: C, F, B flat, E flat, etc.) All these transcultural characteristics were based on the fact that Hendrix lived in the suprapersonal essence of musical intervals and was therefore capable of unfolding their logical implications. I went to India for the first time in 1973. I managed to enrol as a student of classical Indian vocal music in Bharatiya Kala Kendra, a well-known college of music and dance in New Delhi. I could afford to stay only for two months but later I received a scholarship from the Finnish Ministry of Education, which enabled me to return to India in 1974 and continue my studies in Bharatiya Kala Kendra, until I obtained my diploma in vocal music in 1977. Three years in India is not a very long time, but qualitatively this period of learning was really intense. This was due not only to the spiritual character of Indian music in itself, but also to the solid musicianship and inspiring personality of my esteemed teacher, S.K. Banerjee, whose seriousness and integrity as a musician and as a human being seemed to me like an embodiment of the very core of Hindustani music. His own guru was Dilip Chandra Vedi, the renowned scholar-musician who had studied under Bhaskar Rao Bakhle and Faiyaz Khan. My teacher added to this illustrious tradition his individual vocal style, in some respects similar to that of Bhimsen Joshi. Naturally, it was not possible to absorb the entire content of such a vast tradition of vocal music in those few years. But I did achieve my principal aim in studying Indian music, namely, to learn to compose in this idiom in a professional manner. In respect of melody, the years in India were to form the foundation of all my subsequent composing activity. In order to accomplish this object, I tried to organize my time as rationally as I could. The vocal classes in Bharatiya Kala Kendra were held on alternate days. After one year I moved from the college hostel to Chittaranjan Park in South Delhi, near to my guru’s house, in order to receive daily lessons from him. What I particularly valued in the traditional Indian teaching process is the fact that everything is learnt by ear, phrase by phrase, and immediately memorised. In Bharatiya Kala Kendra, I also attended the lessons given to my Indian fellow students. This was quite as instructive as hearing the performances of master musicians. During my stay in Delhi I heard many concerts of such leading vocalists as Bhimsen Joshi, Jitendra Abhisheki, Kishori Amonkar, and others. The great Amir Khan had died in 1973, but his sublime style, with its infra-slow tempi, was carried on by many singers inspired by him. The most impressive instrumentalists, in addition to Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan, were two magnificent sitarists: Vilayat Khan and Nikhil Banerjee, and the young sarod virtuoso Aashish Khan (son of Ali Akbar). To my mind, these musicians signified not only what was happening in the vanguard of Hindustani music, but also its relevance to the global evolution of music. On my return to Finland in 1977, I felt that, with respect to melody, harmony and rhythm, I had found my idiom as a composer. In 1979, I formed in Helsinki an ensemble, The Middle-earth Band, which recorded in the following year an album called The Thoughtful Bride (EMI 9 C 062-38365). During the 1980s, I wrote a number of experimental polyphonic works - mainly for two voices and in small form, as I had not yet found the polyphonic method that I was looking for. Some of this material was performed by Karuna, my second band, which recorded an album called Space for Truth (OM LP/ CD 33) in 1990. I felt strongly that the discovery of such a polyphonic method would signify the completion of my musical search. The wonderful fugues of Beethoven and Shostakovich had proved beyond any doubt that it was possible to express one’s deepest musical thoughts in the language of polyphony even in such times when most other composers could no longer find a living relationship to this idiom. My aim was to find a method of polyphonic composition which, unlike Western polyphony throughout its history, would not have the unfortunate effect of obscuring the individual melodic character of the various modes. In 1992, while making a renewed study of the polyphonic techniques of the Baroque era, I finally discovered the way these techniques had to be modified in order to be fully reconcilable with the melodic principles of Eastern music. No radical reform was necessary, since both musics shared the same fundamental principles, based on the perfect consonances and their dialectical relation to dissonances. All I had to do was to give a more prominent position to parallel fifths and fourths, including the so-called six-four chord, and to subdominant harmony in general, in order to compose purely modal music in all main polyphonic techniques, namely, free imitation, canon, and fugue. This is how the concept of Fuga indiana (“Indian fugue”) came into being. Prelude, the opening item in this collection, was written in 1987. The other six compositions were written between 1993 and 2000. While my musical development has now come full circle, I feel that the end of this cycle is at the same time the beginning of another. The intonational limitations of an instrument like the piano pinpoint the need to reconsider the instrumentation of this music in terms of both Western symphony orchestra and various combinations of Indian instruments. Each piece in this collection is based melodically on a North Indian raga (mode, melody type). The following brief descriptions confine themselves mainly to the scalar structure of these ragas and to a few remarks on the form of the compositions. 1. Prelude was originally called Sarastus (The Dawn). It is based on the raga Bibhas which has the following scale: G, Ab, B, C#, E, G (higher octave). (The most common form of this pentatonic raga has a different scale; see Joep Bor, ed.: The Raga Guide. A Survey of 74 Hindustani Ragas, 1999.) The structure of the composition has its basis in alap, that is, the gradual melodic unfolding of a raga, ascending from the ground-note to its upper octave and descending back to the starting point. The melody in this piece is accompanied by a countermelody in the low register which in the sequel is partly transformed into a homophonic harmony. 2. Fantasia in Saranga is based upon the pentatonic raga Brindabani Sarang. The ascending scale is: C, D, F, G, B, C. B is a leading tone which is flattened in the descent: C, Bb, G, F, D, C. As in Europe, the use of the leading tone is a long tradition in India (see Jairazbhoy, op.cit.p.114). The basic scale (the descending form) of this raga is, in terms of its tonality, a perfectly balanced structure consisting of two series of fifths: C - G - D (ascending dominant series), and C - F - Bb (descending subdominant series). The triplet-based melodic development in the opening section of the composition is followed by a more placid middle section in the upper register. The fast final section in 7/4 time, marked presto con fuoco, starts as a fugato, continues as free counterpoint in two parts and concludes homophonically in a more rhythmic manner. The climax in the extreme registers is followed by a coda containing a slightly modified perfect cadence. The form of these compositions has been inspired by two main sources. Most sections have, firstly, their vocal or instrumental counterparts in North Indian music. Another important model is the symphonic poem, or fantasia sinfonica, as the full flowering of musical form in Europe. In this free and flexible form, the different or even opposite moods and tempi are no longer divided into separate movements, as was the case in the traditional sonata and symphony, but are united within a single movement. 3. Fuga indiana is, like the others, such a composition in “several movements within a single movement”. It has its melodic basis in the raga Lalit. The basic scale is: A, Bb, C#, D, Eb, F, G#, A. (It may be worth mentioning that the level of the ground-note or the “key” of a raga can be chosen freely. In practice, it depends chiefly on the vocal range of the singer and the size of the instruments.) The introduction of the piece is an alap in the high register. The slow fugue that follows, marked molto serioso, starts from the alto voice. The melodic range widens gradually and returns, after some rhythmical diminutions and augmentations, to a lyrical monody in the upper range. The concluding section combines two movements that are characteristic of North Indian music for string instruments: a jor, in medium tempo, and a fast jhala. In these, the melody is accompanied by a rhythmically articulated drone. 4. Fuga libera is based on the raga Desh. The ascent is pentatonic; G, A, C, D, F#, G. The descent is heptatonic: G, F, E, D, C, B, A, G. The ascending form is the same as in Saranga, while the descending form corresponds to the Mixolydian mode. The most emphasized scale degrees, in addition to the tonic, are the second (A) and the fifth (D). The basically bright character of this raga is established by these notes belonging to the series of the dominants. Much less emphasis is laid on the dark subdominants (C and F). (The fundamental phenomenon of tonality is constituted precisely by this expressive polarity between the bright, open and light dominants, on one hand, and the dark, concentrated and heavy subdominants, on the other. Sensitive musicians and listeners have always been intuitively aware of this tonal lawfulness but an explicit theoretical understanding of it has emerged only relatively recently, most notably in the work of such 20th century authors as Rudolf Steiner, Ilmari Krohn, Alain Danielou, Jacques Handschin and Hermann Pfrogner.) This piece too is introduced by a miniature alap. This is followed by a fugue in 7/4 time. The inner division of the rhythm is 3 + 2 + 2. (This cycle of seven beats is a popular rhythmic pattern in India, as well as in Central Asia and in the Balkan countries.) After a brief monodic interlude, the subject of the fugue reappears in augmentation, first in the soprano part and then in the bass. The concluding section has a more urgent and dramatic character. 5. Triamonia may be called a practical synopsis of the principles of this music. Its raga is Bhimpalasi which has a pentatonic ascent and a heptatonic descent: Bb, Db, Eb, F, Ab, Bb - Bb, Ab, G, F, Eb, Db, C, Bb. The ascent is similar to the blues scale, while the descent corresponds to the Dorian mode. The subdominants (Eb - Ab - Db) and the dominants (F - C - G) form a perfect symmetry around the ground-note (Bb). However, the subdominants receive more emphasis and the raga is, in consequence, a real power mode and essentially related to the blues tonality. The opening section of the piece is an alap in three voice parts. The upper voice and the middle part form a canon which is complemented melodically, harmonically and rhythmically by a freely moving bass part. The second main section is a fughetta in a somewhat faster tempo. Its active figuration in triplets calms down before a more subdued interlude. A monodic recitative starting in the high register forms a second interlude of a still more inward nature. This interlude forms, at the same time, the opening of the finale with its resolute character. 6. Fantasia in Yaman is based on the raga Yaman. The ascending scale is: B, D, E, F#, A, B, C. The heptatonic descent: C, B, A, G, F#, E, D, C, corresponds to the Lydian mode. The expression of the raga is emphatically major-like and bright; there is not a single subdominant in this mode. The first main section of the piece is an alap in two voice parts. A monodic interlude descends to the bass register. A song-like theme in 5/4 rhythm (2 + 3) opens the final section. The range expands towards the end, while tremoloes increase the density of the melodic and rhythmic texture. 7. Fuga seria has a synoptic character similar to that of Triamonia. It is based on the raga Bhairavi. The ascending scale is most often hexatonic: F, Ab, Bb, C, Db, Eb, F; the descent is heptatonic: F, Eb, Db, C, Bb, Ab, Gb, F. The most common accidentals are the major second (G) and the major sixth (D). The basic scale corresponds to the ecclesiastical Phrygian and to the ancient Greek Dorian mode. The South Indian Todi and the Iranian modes Shur, Abu Ata and Dashti are likewise closely related to Bhairavi. In respect of its tonality, Bhairavi is nearly symmetrically opposed to Yaman. With its five subdominants (Bb, Eb, Ab, Db, and Gb), it is an intensified minor mode. Its only dominant is the fifth degree (C) and this too is occasionally replaced with the diminished fifth (Cb). The composition opens homophonically with a slow theme. The texture thins to a monody in the sequel. The following main section is a fugue, marked andante, in 7/4 time. The contemplative middle section, starting from the high register, is colored with “East European” thirds before descending to the dark bass range. This section, as well as the finale, marked allegro risoluto, incorporates certain melodic characteristics of Shur, one of the Iranian sister modes of Bhairavi. TO THE SHOP

TO THE SHOP

Arto Koskinen
Fuga indiana

Seven piano compositions representing a new synthesis of Asian, European and Afro-American classical traditions.

Load .mp3 files
Fuga libera. 5.34Mb
Triamonia. 6.14Mb

Prelude 2.48 FIAM30400006
Fantasia in Saranga 7.17 FIAM30400007
Fuga indiana 10.29 FIAM30400008
Fuga libera 5.42 FIAM30400009
Triamonia 6.34 FIAM30400010
Fantasia in Yaman 9.07 FIAM30400011
Fuga seria 12.16 FIAM30400012

Total time 55.04

Arto Koskinen, compositions
Arto Koskinen, piano
Recorded: at Sound Track studio in Helsinki (Finland) Autumn 1999 (track 5)
and at Arabia Studios, Helsinki, Autumn 2000 (tracks 2, 4, 6)
and Spring 2001 (tracks 1, 3, 7).
Recording Engineers: Mika Grönholm (Sound Track) and Rene Sirén (Arabia)
Editor: Matti Saarinen
Cd mastering by Editroom Oy, Helsinki.
Cover Design: Lauri Linnilä
Photo: Tommi Parko
Executive Producer: Kai Linnilä
(P) 2004 ©2005 Oy Amanita Ltd

ama0402

FUGA INDIANA
A new synthesis
of Eastern and Western music
Arto Koskinen

The music in this collection is a synthesis, perhaps novel in some respects, of Asian, European, and Afro-American traditions. The classical music of North India, the Western tradition of polyphonic composition, and Afro-American improvised music are its main sources. While it has seemed to many that such diverse types of music are practically incompatible, each having its own “aesthetics”, my conviction is that this seeming incompatibility is only a surface phenomenon: that at the deepest level they are fully commensurate and that there is ultimately only one aesthetic, one great logic of beauty, which manifests itself in different but complementary forms in the music of various continents and cultural eras.

This view of the essence of music was formed gradually in my youth, way back in the 1960s. After early studies of classical piano, I developed an enthusiasm for jazz in my teens. Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Miles Davis, and John Coltrane were my heroes. A few years later I turned my attention to the world of rock. In 1967, when I was twenty, I heard the concert of Jimi Hendrix in Helsinki. To my mind, the significance of this powerful music was nothing less than world-historical. I saw in Hendrix the culmination of the blues tradition and, by virtue of the decisively modal character of his guitar playing, a deep kinship with the melodic spirit of Asian music. In jazz, the modal style of Coltrane formed a similar link between Western and Eastern music.

I was convinced that the real vanguard in the evolution of Western music was represented by these giants of Afro-American music and not by the intellectually constructed atonality of European modernism. During the 1970s, however, I felt increasingly that the truly creative spirit had departed from the mainstream of Afro-American music and that this spirit could now be found only by delving deeper into Asian music. My idea was that, just as the rhythmic verve of Afro-American music had vitalised Western music in the 20th century, so in the same way its spiritualization, or re-spiritualization, by the melodic essence of Eastern music would be the logical next step. This seemed all the more natural in view of the fact that the modal melodic concept had been revived not only in Afro-American music, but also in the neo-modal style of Sibelius and other European composers.

By the end of the 1960s, I had already heard a good deal of classical Indian music on record. In this I was very much helped by Pekka Gronow, the noted musicologist and a pioneer in promoting the knowledge of non-European musical cultures in Finland. I admired the dignified style of Muttuswami Dikshitar, one of the greatest of the South Indian composers. It was North Indian or Hindustani music, however, which on the whole affected me most strongly. The ethos of this music has, first of all, the general character of profundity and serenity, enhanced by the prominence of slow tempi, sustained notes, subtle inflections and extremely gradual melodic ascent. Secondly, the gradual increase of rhythmic intensity, together with the equally gradual widening of the melodic range, gives Hindustani music its climax-oriented and dramatic structure. Thirdly, between the two extremes of deep tranquillity and explosive intensity, there is a whole gamut of feeling-tones, ranging from sadness to joy and pervaded by a general aura of tenderness, longing and commiseration (the so-called Karuna rasa).

A remarkable feature in outstanding performances of Hindustani music is how the opposite extremes of this expressive continuum merge into one so that the slow and tranquil sections are pervaded by a sense of inner activity and vigilance and, conversely, the basic feeling of serenity is maintained even in the most frenzied climaxes. I am not saying that this inner relatedness and mutual penetration of of activity and tranquillity is a monopoly of Indian music. On the contrary, it is a mark of excellence in all music. The achievements of Bach and Beethoven are sublime examples of it in Western music. In jazz, one only has to think of Charlie Parker - his complete confidence and relaxation even in the most furious tempi and his intense, elaborate, yet perfectly balanced phrasing in slow ballads – to realize in concreto what Hegel means by Spirit as the dynamic unification of opposites or what the Chinese philosophers mean by the harmony of yin and yang. There is no doubt, however, that the wide rhythmic as well as melodic spectrum of Hindustani music offers exceptional possibilities for manifesting this fundamental aesthetic quality.

The recordings of Indian master musicians convinced me of this completely. The fusion of opposities into a higher unity was characteristic of outstanding vocalists such as Faiyaz Khan, Amir Khan, and Moinuddin Dagar, as well as of such pre-eminent instrumentalists as the sitarist Ravi Shankar and the sarodist Ali Akbar Khan. With all its expressive versatility, Ravi Shankar’s playing had the overall character of dynamic balance and extraordinary elegance. For this reason his music struck me first and foremost as being classical in spirit. Ali Akbar Khan, with his prayer-like inwardness, uncanny polyrhythmic mastery and explosive power, provided a slightly different, but equally convincing demonstration of the dynamic union of opposites as a universally valid aesthetic principle. (The elegant style of Ravi Shankar was comparable to Palestrina or Mozart, whereas the dynamism of Ali Akbar was more reminiscent of Josquin Desprez and Beethoven.) Like all great artists, these musicians proved in practice the falsity of aesthetical relativism which denies universal values.

Among the Western classical performers who affected me most strongly, the German-Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter was equally outstanding in terms of the intensity of his playing as Bud Powell was among jazz pianists. Richter’s power, like that of Powell and Ali Akbar, came from within, from his profound concentration. Silent devotion and ecstatic rhythmic movement are the seed and the flower of music, and Richter’s ability to maintain their living unity made him the true heir of Ferruccio Busoni and Artur Schnabel as the chief representative of what I would call the ethical lineage of classical pianism.

The classical composers who inspired me in the 1960s continued to do so through the following decades. Yet I must say that, while at the beginning I was mainly attracted by their melodic gift, it was only much later that I learned fully to appreciate the polyphonic aspect of their music. The incomparable majesty of Handel, the graceful elegance of Mozart, the fervent longing of Chopin, the mystic inwardness of Sibelius - these formed the “Western constellation” in the sowing season of my musical development. The profundity and vastness of Bach and Beethoven, while present right from the start, assumed ascendancy some thirty years later. However, the polyrhythmic thinking of Beethoven; the vitality of his off-beat accents, back beats, rhythmic anticipations, etc., was a major influence all along.

In the mid-1960s, I read a very interesting Ravi Shankar interview in the Down Beat magazine. Commenting on the possibility of combining Indian and Western music, he said that something really new and beautiful could be discovered in this field, provided that one knows both musics equally well. This idea became the guiding principle of my musical search for all years to come. Yet I could hardly suspect at that time how long its adequate realization would take.

I started playing Afro-American music professionally in 1967, in such groups as the rock band Jormas and the experimental ensemble of M.A. Numminen, but from 1970 onwards I spent most of my time on exploring the possibilities of a new synthesis of Western and Indian music. I studied composition on my own, benefiting immensely from the great treatise on composition by Ilmari Krohn. As far as I know, his thorough treatment of the principles of melody remains unequalled to this day. These principles are based on mathematical and tonal relations between consonant and dissonant intervals. Together with the aesthetical-ethical qualitites essentially connected with them, these tonal relations constitute the melodic logic of all music. I felt it was in Indian music (which neither shuns dissonances nor makes a fetish of them) that this dialectical relation between consonances and dissonances found its most systematic application. This strengthened my decision to study it as deeply as possible.

All through these years I made extensive transcriptions of recorded performances of Indian music. I knew that, unlike jazz and rock, Indian music - owing to its greater complexity - cannot really be mastered by this method. Nevertheless, my work on these transcriptions served as effective ear training. It made me familiar with the general features of many of the basic raga-s and helped me, when I went to India, to pick up new material quickly.

Of the many books on Indian music which I read in those years (and later), I must especially mention N.A. Jairazbhoy’s great work, The Rags of North Indian Music, which came out in 1971. This study revealed the all-pervading role of perfect consonances (the octave, the fourth, and the fifth) and also the dynamic function of dissonances as structural principles of melody-formation in Indian music. In particular, it showed the importance of tetrachordal symmetry as a basic principle of melodic movement. This principle means that melodic figures tend to be repeated - in identical or varied form - at a distance of perfect fourths and fifths. Jairazbhoy’s detailed demonstration of the consistent application of this quartal and quintal parallelism in Indian music convinced me completely of the possibility of an organic synthesis of Eastern and Western music, since I was already aware of the importance of this same parallelism in Western music, above all in the fugue, but notably also in the harmonic and melodic basis of the blues which forms the backbone of Afro-American music.

Another, equally fundamental melodic principle in classical Indian music is the gradual melodic ascent from the ground-note to its higher octave. This climax-oriented melodic structure is, together with quartal and quintal symmetry, an architectonic principle in the classical musics of other Asian civilizations as well. A striking Western parallel can be seen in the evolution of the blues: in the gradually ascending guitar solos of B.B. King and in the blossoming of this dramatic style of improvisation in Jimi Hendrix. This feature, combined with his consistent and innovative use of tetrachordal symmetries and the revolutionary way in which he extended blues tonality along the series of subdominants, constituted the singularity of Hendrix among all the Western musicians who inspired me to take up a systematic study of Eastern music. (Western harmony is traditionally characterized by a predominance of the series of dominants or the “half-circle” of ascending fifths: C, G, D, A, etc. The evolution of the blues in the 1960s - which amounted to a revolution in terms of Western music as a whole - consisted in complementing this one-sided tendency with an emphasis on the subdominant series, or the half-circle of descending fifths: C, F, B flat, E flat, etc.) All these transcultural characteristics were based on the fact that Hendrix lived in the suprapersonal essence of musical intervals and was therefore capable of unfolding their logical implications.

I went to India for the first time in 1973. I managed to enrol as a student of classical Indian vocal music in Bharatiya Kala Kendra, a well-known college of music and dance in New Delhi. I could afford to stay only for two months but later I received a scholarship from the Finnish Ministry of Education, which enabled me to return to India in 1974 and continue my studies in Bharatiya Kala Kendra, until I obtained my diploma in vocal music in 1977.

Three years in India is not a very long time, but qualitatively this period of learning was really intense. This was due not only to the spiritual character of Indian music in itself, but also to the solid musicianship and inspiring personality of my esteemed teacher, S.K. Banerjee, whose seriousness and integrity as a musician and as a human being seemed to me like an embodiment of the very core of Hindustani music. His own guru was Dilip Chandra Vedi, the renowned scholar-musician who had studied under Bhaskar Rao Bakhle and Faiyaz Khan. My teacher added to this illustrious tradition his individual vocal style, in some respects similar to that of Bhimsen Joshi.

Naturally, it was not possible to absorb the entire content of such a vast tradition of vocal music in those few years. But I did achieve my principal aim in studying Indian music, namely, to learn to compose in this idiom in a professional manner. In respect of melody, the years in India were to form the foundation of all my subsequent composing activity. In order to accomplish this object, I tried to organize my time as rationally as I could. The vocal classes in Bharatiya Kala Kendra were held on alternate days. After one year I moved from the college hostel to Chittaranjan Park in South Delhi, near to my guru’s house, in order to receive daily lessons from him. What I particularly valued in the traditional Indian teaching process is the fact that everything is learnt by ear, phrase by phrase, and immediately memorised. In Bharatiya Kala Kendra, I also attended the lessons given to my Indian fellow students. This was quite as instructive as hearing the performances of master musicians.

During my stay in Delhi I heard many concerts of such leading vocalists as Bhimsen Joshi, Jitendra Abhisheki, Kishori Amonkar, and others. The great Amir Khan had died in 1973, but his sublime style, with its infra-slow tempi, was carried on by many singers inspired by him. The most impressive instrumentalists, in addition to Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan, were two magnificent sitarists: Vilayat Khan and Nikhil Banerjee, and the young sarod virtuoso Aashish Khan (son of Ali Akbar). To my mind, these musicians signified not only what was happening in the vanguard of Hindustani music, but also its relevance to the global evolution of music.

On my return to Finland in 1977, I felt that, with respect to melody, harmony and rhythm, I had found my idiom as a composer. In 1979, I formed in Helsinki an ensemble, The Middle-earth Band, which recorded in the following year an album called The Thoughtful Bride (EMI 9 C 062-38365). During the 1980s, I wrote a number of experimental polyphonic works - mainly for two voices and in small form, as I had not yet found the polyphonic method that I was looking for. Some of this material was performed by Karuna, my second band, which recorded an album called Space for Truth (OM LP/ CD 33) in 1990.

I felt strongly that the discovery of such a polyphonic method would signify the completion of my musical search. The wonderful fugues of Beethoven and Shostakovich had proved beyond any doubt that it was possible to express one’s deepest musical thoughts in the language of polyphony even in such times when most other composers could no longer find a living relationship to this idiom. My aim was to find a method of polyphonic composition which, unlike Western polyphony throughout its history, would not have the unfortunate effect of obscuring the individual melodic character of the various modes. In 1992, while making a renewed study of the polyphonic techniques of the Baroque era, I finally discovered the way these techniques had to be modified in order to be fully reconcilable with the melodic principles of Eastern music. No radical reform was necessary, since both musics shared the same fundamental principles, based on the perfect consonances and their dialectical relation to dissonances. All I had to do was to give a more prominent position to parallel fifths and fourths, including the so-called six-four chord, and to subdominant harmony in general, in order to compose purely modal music in all main polyphonic techniques, namely, free imitation, canon, and fugue.

This is how the concept of Fuga indiana (“Indian fugue”) came into being. Prelude, the opening item in this collection, was written in 1987. The other six compositions were written between 1993 and 2000.

While my musical development has now come full circle, I feel that the end of this cycle is at the same time the beginning of another. The intonational limitations of an instrument like the piano pinpoint the need to reconsider the instrumentation of this music in terms of both Western symphony orchestra and various combinations of Indian instruments.

Each piece in this collection is based melodically on a North Indian raga (mode, melody type). The following brief descriptions confine themselves mainly to the scalar structure of these ragas and to a few remarks on the form of the compositions.

1. Prelude was originally called Sarastus (The Dawn). It is based on the raga Bibhas which has the following scale: G, Ab, B, C#, E, G (higher octave). (The most common form of this pentatonic raga has a different scale; see Joep Bor, ed.: The Raga Guide. A Survey of 74 Hindustani Ragas, 1999.) The structure of the composition has its basis in alap, that is, the gradual melodic unfolding of a raga, ascending from the ground-note to its upper octave and descending back to the starting point. The melody in this piece is accompanied by a countermelody in the low register which in the sequel is partly transformed into a homophonic harmony.

2. Fantasia in Saranga is based upon the pentatonic raga Brindabani Sarang. The ascending scale is: C, D, F, G, B, C. B is a leading tone which is flattened in the descent: C, Bb, G, F, D, C. As in Europe, the use of the leading tone is a long tradition in India (see Jairazbhoy, op.cit.p.114). The basic scale (the descending form) of this raga is, in terms of its tonality, a perfectly balanced structure consisting of two series of fifths: C - G - D (ascending dominant series), and C - F - Bb (descending subdominant series).

The triplet-based melodic development in the opening section of the composition is followed by a more placid middle section in the upper register. The fast final section in 7/4 time, marked presto con fuoco, starts as a fugato, continues as free counterpoint in two parts and concludes homophonically in a more rhythmic manner. The climax in the extreme registers is followed by a coda containing a slightly modified perfect cadence.

The form of these compositions has been inspired by two main sources. Most sections have, firstly, their vocal or instrumental counterparts in North Indian music. Another important model is the symphonic poem, or fantasia sinfonica, as the full flowering of musical form in Europe. In this free and flexible form, the different or even opposite moods and tempi are no longer divided into separate movements, as was the case in the traditional sonata and symphony, but are united within a single movement.

3. Fuga indiana is, like the others, such a composition in “several movements within a single movement”. It has its melodic basis in the raga Lalit. The basic scale is: A, Bb, C#, D, Eb, F, G#, A. (It may be worth mentioning that the level of the ground-note or the “key” of a raga can be chosen freely. In practice, it depends chiefly on the vocal range of the singer and the size of the instruments.)

The introduction of the piece is an alap in the high register. The slow fugue that follows, marked molto serioso, starts from the alto voice. The melodic range widens gradually and returns, after some rhythmical diminutions and augmentations, to a lyrical monody in the upper range. The concluding section combines two movements that are characteristic of North Indian music for string instruments: a jor, in medium tempo, and a fast jhala. In these, the melody is accompanied by a rhythmically articulated drone.

4. Fuga libera is based on the raga Desh. The ascent is pentatonic; G, A, C, D, F#, G. The descent is heptatonic: G, F, E, D, C, B, A, G. The ascending form is the same as in Saranga, while the descending form corresponds to the Mixolydian mode. The most emphasized scale degrees, in addition to the tonic, are the second (A) and the fifth (D). The basically bright character of this raga is established by these notes belonging to the series of the dominants. Much less emphasis is laid on the dark subdominants (C and F). (The fundamental phenomenon of tonality is constituted precisely by this expressive polarity between the bright, open and light dominants, on one hand, and the dark, concentrated and heavy subdominants, on the other. Sensitive musicians and listeners have always been intuitively aware of this tonal lawfulness but an explicit theoretical understanding of it has emerged only relatively recently, most notably in the work of such 20th century authors as Rudolf Steiner, Ilmari Krohn, Alain Danielou, Jacques Handschin and Hermann Pfrogner.)

This piece too is introduced by a miniature alap. This is followed by a fugue in 7/4 time. The inner division of the rhythm is 3 + 2 + 2. (This cycle of seven beats is a popular rhythmic pattern in India, as well as in Central Asia and in the Balkan countries.) After a brief monodic interlude, the subject of the fugue reappears in augmentation, first in the soprano part and then in the bass. The concluding section has a more urgent and dramatic character.
5. Triamonia may be called a practical synopsis of the principles of this music. Its raga is Bhimpalasi which has a pentatonic ascent and a heptatonic descent: Bb, Db, Eb, F, Ab, Bb - Bb, Ab, G, F, Eb, Db, C, Bb. The ascent is similar to the blues scale, while the descent corresponds to the Dorian mode. The subdominants (Eb - Ab - Db) and the dominants (F - C - G) form a perfect symmetry around the ground-note (Bb). However, the subdominants receive more emphasis and the raga is, in consequence, a real power mode and essentially related to the blues tonality.

The opening section of the piece is an alap in three voice parts. The upper voice and the middle part form a canon which is complemented melodically, harmonically and rhythmically by a freely moving bass part. The second main section is a fughetta in a somewhat faster tempo. Its active figuration in triplets calms down before a more subdued interlude. A monodic recitative starting in the high register forms a second interlude of a still more inward nature. This interlude forms, at the same time, the opening of the finale with its resolute character.

6. Fantasia in Yaman is based on the raga Yaman. The ascending scale is: B, D, E, F#, A, B, C. The heptatonic descent: C, B, A, G, F#, E, D, C, corresponds to the Lydian mode. The expression of the raga is emphatically major-like and bright; there is not a single subdominant in this mode.

The first main section of the piece is an alap in two voice parts. A monodic interlude descends to the bass register. A song-like theme in 5/4 rhythm (2 + 3) opens the final section. The range expands towards the end, while tremoloes increase the density of the melodic and rhythmic texture.

7. Fuga seria has a synoptic character similar to that of Triamonia. It is based on the raga Bhairavi. The ascending scale is most often hexatonic: F, Ab, Bb, C, Db, Eb, F; the descent is heptatonic: F, Eb, Db, C, Bb, Ab, Gb, F. The most common accidentals are the major second (G) and the major sixth (D). The basic scale corresponds to the ecclesiastical Phrygian and to the ancient Greek Dorian mode. The South Indian Todi and the Iranian modes Shur, Abu Ata and Dashti are likewise closely related to Bhairavi. In respect of its tonality, Bhairavi is nearly symmetrically opposed to Yaman. With its five subdominants (Bb, Eb, Ab, Db, and Gb), it is an intensified minor mode. Its only dominant is the fifth degree (C) and this too is occasionally replaced with the diminished fifth (Cb).

The composition opens homophonically with a slow theme. The texture thins to a monody in the sequel. The following main section is a fugue, marked andante, in 7/4 time. The contemplative middle section, starting from the high register, is colored with “East European” thirds before descending to the dark bass range. This section, as well as the finale, marked allegro risoluto, incorporates certain melodic characteristics of Shur, one of the Iranian sister modes of Bhairavi.

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