I always rather liked the idea of a piece with a text where the music could be said to be "about" something quite different from what the text is "about". I can't quite think of any, though there are certain things in Boulez and in Gerald Barry that might seem to point in this direction. A friend of mine wrote a short choral piece in which, he claimed, the text said 'Yes' but the music said 'No' at a certain key point, which seemed to work better than I'd have believed but still strikes me as less radical than what I propose above.

I can't help the estimable Mr Grew very much with Atterberg, I'm afraid, but his mention of sibyls reminded me of the following, which I hope he might appreciate. He will note, I'm sure, that it is a kind of sonnet. I expect he can guess who wrote it.


SPELT FROM SIBYL'S LEAVES

Earnest, earthless, equal, attuneable, | vaulty, voluminous, — stupendous
Evening strains to be tíme's vást, | womb-of-all, home-of-all, hearse-of-all night.
Her fond yellow hornlight wound to the west, | her wild hollow hoarlight hung to the height
Waste; her earliest stars, earl-stars, | stárs principal, overbend us,
Fíre-féaturing heaven. For earth | her being has unbound, her dapple is at an end, a-
stray or aswarm, all throughther, in throngs; | self ín self steeded and páshed—qúite
Disremembering, dísmémbering | áll now. Heart, you round me right
With: Óur évening is over us; óur night | whélms, whélms, ánd will end us.

Only the beak-leaved boughs dragonish | damask the tool-smooth bleak light; black,
Ever so black on it. Óur tale, O óur oracle! | Lét life, wáned, ah lét life wind
Off hér once skéined stained véined variety | upon, áll on twó spools; párt, pen, páck
Now her áll in twó flocks, twó folds—black, white; | right, wrong; reckon but, reck but, mind
But thése two; wáre of a wórld where bút these | twó tell, each off the óther; of a rack
Where, selfwrung, selfstrung, sheathe- and shelterless, | thóughts agaínst thoughts ín groans grínd.

I'm afraid I can't help you with any of the music, Sydney, having never heard of the piece. But I would like to listen to it. What recording have you got?

Ragnarök (Ragnarökr in old Icelandic) is an interesting word, though. "Twilight of the Gods" does suggest that they're now taking it easy in a retirement home, whereas "Doom of the Gods" is a much more powerful image. Indeed it was rök, meaning doom, originally, but it became confused with rökr (modern Icelandic rökkur), meaning twilight and that version prevailed. Ragna is the genetive of regin, meaning "the ruling powers" or, in this case, gods. It survives in modern Icelandic in the prefix regin-, meaning great, tremendous.

Völuspá, is also interesting. A spá is a prophecy, and the same word is used in modern Icelandic when referring to weather forecasts or horoscopes. Völu is the genetive of völva - a prophetess, sybil, wise woman or witch. The Icelandic word for computer is tölva - a combination of tölu (genetive of tala, number) and völva. So the thing you're looking at right now is a wise woman of number! (Or witch when it doesn't work the way you want it to.)

Mr. Watson in his admirably erudite message asks us, what recording have we got? Well most of our library consists of recordings from the wireless, and it has long been our custom to cut out those parts of the announcements which describe the performers. We do sometimes retain information about a work itself if it interests us (as in this case). So the short answer to Mr. Watson's question is, that we cannot answer (because, regrettably, we do not know). We made the recording about five years ago, and since it is very often the latest commercial issues which are played on the wireless we think it probable that this performance was issued not long before that time. (Incidentally the same point applies to our discussion of Shonkicovitch's Eighth Symphony in another thread - we have no idea who is performing or conducting our version.)

I still enjoy Beecham's pioneer recording of the Sixth,which won the  Schubert  centenary competition in  1928.

It led to something of a rumpus when Atterberg said he had written it 'partly as  a joke',and this was misunderstood as an admission that the symphony was a 'hoax'. sadly, Beecham lost interest in it after this.

Atterberg's Sixth doesn't sound to me overtly like a 'pastiche'. He may not have been a very original composer but this music doesn't sound to me as if he is copying anyone.

I think his remark may have been misunderstood due to translation.