Tribute to a Long-Lived Voice From the North (TItle of this article about a concert of music by Sibelius, on whom Colin Davis was a commanding, juicy authority.)
By LESLIE KANDELL Published: November 30, 1997 MUSIC-LOVERS wish that Mozart had lived longer than his 35 years and lament that Schubert did not have even that much time. But among long-lived composers who surpassed the psalmist's three score and ten, ''or by reason of strength, four score,'' none exceeded Jean Sibelius, whose long, brooding years in the chilly Finland he loved were almost three times Schubert's lifespan. When Janne Sibelius was born in 1865, Berlioz and Rossini were still alive, and Brahms and Tchaikovsky were young men. By the time he died (with his first name spelled the French way), John Cage was in his prime, and the young lions were Steve Reich and Philip Glass. The distinctive breadth and language of Sibelius's music captured the soul of the north and in ''Finlandia'' gave Finland an anthem, but by 1957 he had outlived himself. He leaves no one in the dark about what he lacked time to achieve. Disaffected by trends in music, self-critical, depressed and drinking heavily despite worldwide acclaim and a government grant for life, he simply quit composing around 1930, leaving an Eighth Symphony unfinished or perhaps burning it. His grand, melancholy oeuvre, if not uniformly understood or in constant favor with the masses to whom he refused to pander, is at least not hidden or lost. On Saturday, Unity Concerts joins a tribute to Sibelius, ''Northern Lights,'' which begins tomorrow at Lincoln Center in Manhattan. The centerpiece of this two-week series of films, talks and recitals is three concerts, one of which is also being presented in Montclair, by the London Symphony Orchestra under Sir Colin Davis, its principal conductor and the newly appointed principal guest conductor of the New York Philharmonic. ''There is no voice like Sibelius,'' said Sir Colin in a telephone interview from his home in London. ''Nobody tried to express what he did. His somber, dark colors are like an old master covered with varnish. The colors are not brilliant; the pitch is low, but the music is confident and majestic. There is tension, violence and idealism. It's different from Beethoven's heroics.'' The Montclair program, consisting of the Third and Fifth Symphonies, represents Sibelius's richly lyrical voice a decade after ''Finlandia'' blazed into prominence. ''Lemminkainen's Return,'' from an early tone-poem cycle called ''Four Legends,'' traces a epic hero's journey through constantly changing terrain and, while forecasting the composer's talent, suggests a metaphor for his life. ''I really love his music,'' said Sir Colin, who recorded Sibelius's symphonies with the Boston Symphony Orchestra for Philips, and again recently, with the London Symphony for RCA Victor. ''I try to give it as much space as that huge figure requires. Space is as much a part of Sibelius as chords.'' The Second and Fifth Symphonies 5 are the best known; it was the Fifth, in fact, that happened to be playing on the radio in the composer's house 40 years ago as Sibelius lay dying, although his funeral included the murky, inscrutable Fourth. In the Fifth, Sir Colin finds ''some spirit of the earth in deep trouble.'' He has great affection for No. 3, which he calls ''the stuff of music,'' having learned it as a youth from a recording that belonged to his brother. Its poetic first movement, he thinks, also has a headache and a hangover. The second movement is a ballad, ''with great sorrow, as if we've lost our way in the woods and can't get out,'' while the finale is ''jagged, with fragments of staccato melody like Bartok.'' He added, ''Perhaps the wood sprites are banished.'' Sibelius's triumphant moments are in the First and Second Symphonies, he said. ''Some of the others are alarming and touching: the moan and groan of the bassoon in the Fifth, the trombone in the Seventh, smashed by the brass and then submerged,'' he said. Sir Colin seems to feel a connection with the composer, and the effect of the music's large scope. ''Sibelius is tied up with all the great forces of life,'' he said. ''Life and death are relevant to music. It's tied to time, and in it, you can find the image of life. It has a beginning and an end, and you knew when the end was coming. Now, the world is turning on its dark side. Everything is collapsing: the church is weak; people worry about money. The human heart has a hunger that will not be satisfied.'' Sir Colin said the difference between conducting symphonic music and opera, for which he is also known, is that opera pertains to a specific dramatic situation and symphony to an unspecific dramatic situation. At the same time, he describes Sibelius's symphonies in terms of visual, personal drama, evoking not only smashings and submersions, but also dreamlike journeys through forests and snow, some of which end sadly.
''I've personally changed,'' said Sir Colin, 70, whose performances are admired for clarity, eloquence and devastating effect, and whose spirited forthrightness has nothing to do with the austere, shy composer. ''Music doesn't sound the same. It's a fantastic friend and reflects, like a mirror, how far you've come. You briefly enter a realm which you can't live in. When you're lost in it, you discover powers you didn't know you have. It's a chance to be more than you might have been.''