Kathryn Woodard Discusses the Piano Music of Ahmed Adnan Saygun
BY COLIN CLARKE
The music of Turkish composer Ahmed Adnan Saygun (1907–91) has never quite made it to the prominence it deserves. Pianist Kathryn Woodard’s recent Albany disc of piano music by this composer is intended to set the record straight. Our interview concentrated on this new disc, and a review follows on from the article (along with reviews of two other of Woodard’s discs).
First of all, I want to know where Woodward’s association with the music of Saygun began. “I came to know of Saygun’s music through a 1997
New York Times
article by Stephen Kinzer who was at the time the
Times
’ Istanbul correspondent,” she says. “His title, ‘Classical Music Apolitical? Not in Turkey,’ pretty much sums up the trajectory of my research. I was a doctoral student at the time looking for a thesis topic (I was also interested in Colin McPhee’s transcriptions of Balinese gamelan), and I had already traveled to Turkey in 1989 on a two-week archaeological tour of the country. I basically fell in love with the country and any excuse to go back was welcome. I was able to find Saygun’s published scores and to start looking at his piano works before going to Istanbul and Ankara for a semester in 1998. I had already started studying ethnomusicology as part of my doctoral studies, so the topic fit my interests well—a composer from beyond Europe who was writing music for the piano and using various techniques associated with Turkish music.
“Prior to this research, which radically changed my focus as a pianist, I had trained at major conservatories studying the traditional classical repertoire, mainly with Gitti Pirner in Munich and Frank Weinstock in Cincinnati. I did gradually lean toward contemporary music late in my graduate studies, and percussionist Allen Otte (also at Cincinnati) was very influential in introducing me to works, composers, and trends.
“I started the piano relatively late (age nine) in Dallas, where I studied with Jo Boatright. I came to live and study in Munich after moving there with my family in 1985. My father worked as an engineer (and eventually became vice president) for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, which was still headquartered in Munich at the time. I consider his work in radio also to be very influential on my musical studies. I probably developed my earliest new-music skills by listening to the radio (as in Cage’s
Imaginary Landscape No. 4).
His work in shortwave broadcasting to Eastern Europe and Central Asia also piqued my interest in these regions early on.”
I point out that the music on the disc covers Saygun’s creative life, from the student days in Paris (Theme and Variations, 1931) through to the
Sketches
of 1976. “Yes,” Woodard says, “I wanted to give an overview of his works for solo piano. There is an even later work, the sonata from 1990. I guess that will have to go on a future album.” In a sense, the record acts as an introduction to Saygun. I ask for a brief introduction to Saygun—who he was and his music? “Saygun is recognized as one of the foremost composers of Western music in Turkey. He is known as a member of the ‘Turkish Five,’ a group of composers who all trained to some degree in Europe and incorporated elements from Turkish music into their compositions. In addition to the piano works he wrote five operas, five symphonies, several concertos, numerous vocal and chamber works. Creating a synthesis of Western and Turkish music was a central tenet of the music reforms of the Republican era in Turkey (1920s and 1930s). But Saygun approached the practice of synthesis from very different angles depending on the nature and context of the work, and simply because of artistic inspiration. Much is made of Saygun’s role in advancing Turkey’s agenda of westernization, but I find his compositions belie a much more complex and nuanced understanding of compositional processes that do not necessarily fit one agenda. This is why one hears such a variety of styles in his music that one wouldn’t necessarily expect from a single composer seeking a unified artistic voice.” Woodard almost pre-empts my next question here. The
Sketches on Aksak Rhythms,
op. 58, includes some music of violence, yet
Inci’s Book
(written for children) is beautifully simple and clean. I ask Woodard to expand on the variety of Saygun’s music, both in terms of its remit and also how it changed over the course of his composing career.
“Saygun came of age at a unique time, as the Ottoman Empire was collapsing and the new Turkish Republic was being founded,” she explains. “It meant that he was exposed to a lot of different styles of music that really didn’t exist together in any other place in quite the same way. Western music had been introduced into the Ottoman palace in the 19th century; Western operas were being performed in the larger cities of the Empire, and some composers and musicians (such as the Armenian Dikran Cuhaciyan) were already experimenting with creating hybrid compositions blending Western and Turkish instruments. Saygun was able to draw on all of these influences and to avail himself of the newest trends in Europe, both from his student days and from continuing travel there as his career grew. While his style did change over the course of his career, I find it more interesting that the kernels for many of his approaches are already evident in his early student works. In the suite from 1931 he draws on a simple lyricism based on Turkish modal traditions (and the Gregorian chant that he was learning at the Schola Cantorum), and at the same time he is exploring complex contrapuntal writing that figures later in the études (No. 3, for example). What was not evident at this time were references to the highly virtuosic Black Sea kemence (bowed fiddle) playing that Saygun was first exposed to in 1938 when he traveled to that region. The Sketch No. 1 starts with a clear reference to that style of playing with its parallel fifths. I would also say that the virtuosity of the études not only continues the tradition of étude writing for the piano but also draws on the kind of technical display Saygun heard in Black Sea kemence playing.”
I remain intrigued by the musical techniques we may find here—
makam
, for example? I also want to know more about them. “
Makam
is the modal practice of Turkish music similar in concept and practice to the use of modes in Gregorian chant. It is a complex system for composing and improvising and is also based on a different tuning system than Western temperament.
Makam
is most often associated with Turkish classical music, or more accurately the music of the Ottoman court. But similar modal constructs are found in the music of rural Turkey. Politicians of the reform period liked to think in clear-cut categories (art versus folk, etc.), but as with all music the stylistic boundaries in reality are often blurred. I’m sure Saygun was profoundly aware of this, and so his references to
makam
are rooted in some training in Ottoman music as a youth, his research of Anatolian folk music, and his own interpretation of what works within Western temperament. This is particularly crucial for the piano works, since there is no possibility for experimenting with tuning. Saygun is often taken to task for not understanding the context for
makam
and for sullying the tradition by attempting to write
makam
for Western instruments, but he is simply one in a long line of composers who have sought to push the boundaries, in his case from both Turkish and Western perspectives.”
Personally, I find the “limping” rhythms very appealing, a characteristic of Turkish music. I ask Woodard to describe Turkish folk music in general, and Saygun’s treatment of it. “The ‘limping’ (
aksak
) rhythms are found both in folk and art music of Turkey. They are what Bartók termed ‘Bulgarian rhythms,’ but actually the use of
aksak
as a term to describe these in Turkish music dates back several centuries. (I wonder if Saygun and Bartók had arguments about the rhythms’ origins!) I think what sets Saygun’s (and Bartók’s) use of these rhythms apart from other works I’ve played is that he’s really going for the larger pulses—not seven eighth notes of equal value, for example, but three uneven pulses: short, short, long. He also notates this in his scores with a large number 3 in the time signature rather than 7/8. He wants the player to feel the limp, rather than simply count subdivisions. This applies just as much to the later more abstract works, such as the études and
Sketches
, as it does in the actual folk dances Saygun set in
Anadolu’dan.
What makes
Anadolu’dan
so interesting is to hear how differently Saygun chooses to set three different dances. Because the original dances would only be a melody with only drumming as accompaniment, he has to decide how to create a workable accompaniment on the piano. In ‘Meseli’ he relies mostly on an ostinato bass and static chord pattern to substitute for the drumming, but in ‘Zeybek’ he provides full tertian harmony under the melody. In ‘Halay’ he uses a variety of techniques for each of the dance’s sections, including polymodal counterpoint. It really is astounding.”
Saygun’s encounter with Bartók in 1936 left a lasting impression. Woodard points out in her liner notes that one can clearly hear the influence of Bartók in the pieces
From Anatolia
(1945). What does she see as similarities and differences between the two composers? “Wow, that’s a tough one. Or let’s say ‘complex.’ They are obviously from two different places, Hungary and Turkey, but the two places are similar in that they are both on the margins of Europe. In that sense the two composers shared a desire to represent musically their places of origin while still rooting their style in a modernist European musical language. The fact that this was approached through similar means can be explained by the purpose of Bartók’s visit to Turkey, which was actually to demonstrate links between Hungary and Turkey. At the time the cultures were considered related through language family and roots in the Turkic world. And of course, the fact that Saygun met Bartók and heard his music created a process of influence. So Saygun was taking from Bartók, Bartók was taking from everywhere he traveled, and both composers were drawn to certain elements (irregular rhythms, modal constructs, etc.) because of cultural affiliation.”
I wonder, why was there a 20-year gap between
Anadolu’dan
and the later music in Saygun’s writing for the piano? “Immediately after composing
Anadolu’dan,
Saygun finished a large-scale work, the
Yunus Emre
Oratorio, which garnered him much international attention with performances in Paris and other European cities and eventually at the U.N. in 1958 under Leopold Stokowski,” she says. “These successes shifted his focus to larger-scale works I believe, and the first piano concerto was in fact written during this time.”
I point out that Woodard selected only five études from op. 38, even though there is plenty of playing time left on the disc. What, I wonder, was the rationale behind this? “There are actually several works that I didn’t include on this disc: the Sonatina, the set of 12 preludes, the remaining études and the Sonata I mentioned. I guess I divided the works more or less in half with the idea that a second album will be forthcoming. I did only choose the Theme and Variations movement from the Suite for a reason. I don’t think the other movements are as strong, and the later version of the Theme and Variations I recorded is even different from the original movement from the Suite.”
I was surprised to see that ArkivMusic only lists 11 discs of Saygun’s music, which seems to indicate substantial neglect. “I’m not sure why it’s neglected outside of Turkey,” Woodard says. “The figure they give is only for recent recordings on major European and U.S. labels. I know of several recordings produced in Turkey (that I also own) that are not on the ArkivMusic list. So a major part of raising awareness of Saygun’s music and Turkish performers would simply be to bring these Turkish discs and labels into the fold of the mainstream cataloguing system. Surely with online media nowadays, inclusivity should be possible. This doesn’t even include all of the archival recordings that Turkish Radio and Television must have. A significant number of the recordings on the ArkivMusic list are from cpo’s ongoing project to record the major orchestral works. So that is a positive sign that European orchestras and labels are taking serious interest in Saygun’s music. But getting back to the general point that Saygun’s music has been neglected: I think Saygun and his music have suffered from the role he has been assigned as a proponent of Turkish nationalism. Even though he is upheld as an important cultural figure in Turkey as a composer of Western music, his music needs more attention outside of Turkey if he is to be recognized as an important 20th-century composer.”
I know Woodard has done much research into Saygun, and that that led to her being the consultant for Turkish music for Yo-Yo Ma’s Silk Road project; what exactly was her involvement there? “I was charged with identifying Turkish composers to commission as part of the Silk Road’s commissioning project,” she says. “That is how I came to know Hasan Uçarsu, whose music I recorded on another CD (
Journeys),
and he was a student of Saygun. My role as consultant also involved a presentation of my findings to a commissioning panel, and that is how I came to discuss Saygun’s music with Yo-Yo Ma. Afterwards I sent him a few of the cello scores, and he has since performed a movement of the Suite for Solo Cello on numerous occasions, both on Silk Road Ensemble concerts and as an encore following concerto performances.”
How would Woodard sum up her own reactions to Saygun’s music? “Initially I found his music intriguing but also frustrating. I was puzzled by the wide variety of styles present in his music, as you mention. It took me several years to arrive at the explanation I gave above, and actually the cultural milieu of turn-of-the-century Turkey that led to Saygun’s development as a composer has yet to be fully explored and assessed. It’s a period and region rife with contentions, to say the least. But now I find it odd that it was difficult to switch styles so quickly from piece to piece or even with a piece. We as performers do that all the time in the context of a recital program, but somehow we still expect a unified style from a single composer as if he/she doesn’t have a true voice otherwise.
“I have found performing Saygun’s music for audiences to be very rewarding, as it always gives me new perspectives on how listeners are hearing the music and contextualizing it within the broader scope of piano music. I particularly enjoy playing the études and
Sketches
.” There are Saygun piano concertos (mentioned briefly earlier in this article), but Woodward has no immediate plans to record these. “I would love to start delving into the piano concertos, which I know from Gülsin Onay’s recordings,” she says, “but I have only cursorily perused them at this point. I think collaborating with the right conductor and orchestra to find new interpretations would be exciting.”
Looking at Woodard’s Web site, she seems to be remarkably well traveled. And of course the central thesis of her musical life seems to be cross-cultural music exchanges. The two discs,
Silhouettes
and
Journeys
, exemplify this. The most recent disc,
Journeys
, mixes Japanese, Georgian (Eka Chabashvili, another composer who crosses boundaries between European and non-European traditions), Croatian, Turkish (Hasan Uçarsu, himself a pupil of Saygun), and Mongolian (Sansargereltekh Sangidorj) music, continuing the concept of fertile cross-border correspondence. Perhaps the most imaginative score here, for me, is the Matthusen.
Silhouettes
, too, mixes Anatolian, Japanese, Chinese, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan music. I wonder if Woodard can, for example, give examples of concert programs to further exemplify what she does?
“I run a series at Texas A&M University called Sonic Crossroads, presenting themed concerts that explore a certain region or composer,” she says. “One of the first was titled
Caucasian Sketches
, with a chamber arrangement of Ippolitov-Ivanov’s piece by that name that included baglama, a Turkish long-necked lute. It also included works by Saygun, Khachaturian, Franghiz Ali-Zadeh, and a new piece by Eka Chabashvili. Other concerts have explored new chamber music from Japan, and the music of Croatian composer Ivan Bozicevic. A recent collaboration with the Museum of Fine Arts Houston paired images from the museum’s collection with works by Béla Bartók, George Antheil, Morton Feldman, György Kurtág, and Bruce Wolosoff.”
And future recordings? “Besides the remaining works by Saygun, I have a lot of piano music by other Turkish composers that deserves to be recorded, so a compilation CD would be in order. I’ve also had in mind to record the chamber music of Saygun; there are works for violin and piano and cello and piano.” What about collaborations with living composers? And, indeed, Woodard’s own creative output (given that
Journeys
includes her own
Lyric Suite
)?
“I don’t have any further collaborations planned currently, but I am working on a set of chamber pieces of my own for oboe, clarinet, cello, and piano. One of these was commissioned by a contemporary-music group in Split, Croatia, so the cross-cultural exchange is indeed happening!”
SAYGUN
Suite,
op. 2:
Theme and Variations (revised version).
Sketches on Aksak Rhythms
,
op. 58.
From Anatolia,
op. 25.
Inci’s Book,
op. 10.
Études on Aksak Rhythms,
op. 38:
Nos. 3, 4, 5, 7, 10
•
Kathryn Woodard (pn)
•
ALBANY TROY1168 (56: 14)
This is a remarkable disc. Above and beyond Kathryn Woodard’s magnetic musicality lies her staunch and unwavering advocacy of Saygun’s music, music that is at once appealing and approachable yet at the same time mysterious and complex. The interview reproduced above introduces many of the concepts that lie behind this music.
The Theme and Variations, part of the op. 2 Suite, was written in 1931 while Saygun was still a student at the Schola Cantorum in Paris, where he was a pupil of Vincent d’Indy. The Suite was actually Saygun’s first work for solo piano. Woodard presents the composer’s own reworked version (no exact date is available). The theme actually recurs in the manner of a ritornello. Above all it is the strength of conviction that the composer exhibits that is so impressive here. Forty-five years later, Saygun wrote the
10 Sketches on Aksak Rhythms
, op. 58. Some of these (No. 2, for example) sound almost improvised. Others, like the first (mentioned in the interview with reference to its invocation of the Black Sea kemence, a small bowed fiddle), are more clearly rhythmic. The musical language itself frequently calls on octatonic and pentatonic scales. Woodard seems to be able to enter easily and immediately into the character of each individual movement. Perhaps the buzzing No. 4 is the most overtly exciting movement; she is also completely unapologetic of the dissonances of No. 5, while the dark, low-register oscillations of No. 7 emerge as a sort of Turkish tribute to late Liszt. A sense of play informs the final sketch.
The three pieces that constitute
From Anatolia (Anadolu’dan)
of 1945 are “Me¸seli,” “Zeybek,” and “Halay.” Each originates from a different region. The simplicity of “Zeybek” is most inviting.
Inci’s Book
(1934) is pure delight. It dates from the same year as the premiere of two of Saygun’s operas (what are the chances of hearing a Saygun opera, I wonder?). In using simple textures, it acts as a sort of distillation of Saygun’s thought. The results can be surprising. The penultimate movement, a Lullaby, is almost heartbreaking in its effect. With textures stripped down to an absolute minimum, it is almost unbearably poignant. The final movement, “Dream,” emerges as an expressive prolongation of the lullaby.
There is a 30-year gap between
Inci’s Book
and the Études, op. 38 (1964). In the latter, Saygun writes in his most astringent manner. According to Woodard’s booklet notes, “these pieces have become a rite of passage for serious piano students in Turkey.” The second étude we hear, No. 4, is an intriguing mix of Debussian textures with quasi-improvised melody. The slowly evolving, exploratory nature of No. 7, with its use of wide registral spaces, makes for huge contrast to the final étude we hear (No. 10), a splendid, virtuoso way to close the disc.
The Naxos competition comes in the form of Zeynep Üçba¸saran (reviewed by myself in
Fanfare
32:2). The two discs offer complementary programs (although there is some overlap). While I admire Üçba¸saran’s sense of rhythm and her enthusiasm, it is Woodard that captures the laurels as she seems most attuned to Saygun’s modes of expression. Albany’s recording, also, offers a truer piano sound than that accorded by Naxos.
Colin Clarke
