räsonanz – Munich 2017

Claude Vivier

Many consider Claude Vivier the greatest composer Canada has yet produced. At the age of 34, he was the victim of a shocking murder, leaving behind some 49 compositions in a wide range of genres, including opera, orchestral works, and chamber pieces. György Ligeti once called Vivier “the finest French composer of his generation.”

Born in Montréal of unknown parents, Vivier was adopted at the age of three. After being expelled from a seminary at sixteen for “immature behavior”—from an early age, Vivier was open about his homosexuality—he studied at the Conservatoire de Musique in Montréal, where his teachers included Gilles Tremblay (composition) and Irving Heller (piano). In 1971, Vivier left Canada for Europe, studying electroacoustic music with Gottfried Michael Koenig in Utrecht, and composition with Karlheinz Stockhausen in Cologne. Although Vivier was influenced by the latter, he nonetheless developed a highly personal language. Chants, composed during this period, represented for him “the first moment of my existence as a composer.”

In the fall of 1976, Vivier took a long trip through Asia. A visit to Bali caused him to reevaluate his ideas concerning the role of the artist in society, initiating a new period in his stylistic evolution. In the wake of this journey he wrote Shiraz (1977) for piano, Orion (1979) for orchestra, and his opera Kopernikus (1978–79). Above all, it was in his cycle of pieces for voice and instrumental ensemble, particularly Lonely Child (1980) and Prologue pour un Marco Polo (1981) that Vivier’s unique style crystallized. In a New York Times profile, Paul Griffiths observed, “The harmonic auras are suddenly more complex, and the fantastic orchestration is unlike anything in Vivier’s earlier music, or anyone else’s. Perhaps he found it by listening intently to bells and gongs, for the huge chords that march along—around—the voice commonly have deep fundamentals with a fizz of interfering higher tones, rather like metallic resonances.” During this period, Vivier began to create texts in an invented language, mirroring the singularity of his musical idiom.

Vivier spent the last months of his life in Paris. On March 12, 1983, Vivier was found stabbed to death in his apartment. His murderer, a 19-year-old man who may have been a prospective lover, was later caught and sentenced.

Vivier advocates include Mauricio Kagel, Kent Nagano, Reinbert de Leeuw, David Robertson, and Dawn Upshaw. Vivier’s music featured prominently in Holland Festival 2005, and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra opened its 2005/06 season with Lonely Child, with David Robertson conducting and Dawn Upshaw as the soprano soloist. In 2005, the Montréal Symphony Orchestra inaugurated the Claude Vivier National Prize for the best work by a Canadian composer.

Claude Vivier in conversation with Susan Frykberg

Musicworks No. 18, Winter 1982

[…] In our civilization, people always expect answers. An aesthetic answer, to say, ah ha! this is the truth. And political systems are the same thing. They try to find answers and they try to apply those answers to masses of human beings. Which is sometimes very dangerous to individual lives. What’s happening now is that there’s a total shift in the political fuse and…

So you always ask questions in your music…what sort of questions?

Time, love, intimate ones usually. But it’s hard to say I ask questions in my music, because music is such a … Once you’ve got the piece there, it’s done, you know. My music is a paradox. Usually in music you have some development, some direction or some aim, the big bang or crescendo or whatever which in my music, happens less and less. I just have statements, musical statements, which somehow, lead nowhere. Also on the other hand, they lead somewhere, but it’s on a much more subtle basis. Not on the basis of mastering the crescendo or mastering the actual expectations of the listeners, I mean expectations in the dramatic sense. Very often my music doesn’t have these expectations. It’s often only statements, very clear statements, sometimes with dramatic curves, but not as in romantic music.

With that attitude, can you compare yourself to any past composers?

I could compare myself with some Japanese musics or Balinese musics. Among the western composers I could compare myself with Mozart and Chopin.

Mozart or Chopin?

Yeah.

How? I mean, Chopin’s really Romantic, with dramatic curves and..

Well, there’s always curves…but there is in both those composers a purity in terms of line, melody, harmony and style of development, where you have a cell, getting bigger and bigger and developing itself.

But that’s not what we were talking about before, which was about clear statements. They’re definitely going somewhere.

Yes, it is going somewhere, but it’s not going where…

Brahms takes it.

Or Beethoven or even Bach. Oh! It’s hard to define this. Because I’m not anti-gestural per se – anti-gestural would be some pieces of those artists in New York, where you have nothing. But here, if you have a melody then it has to go somewhere.

You could almost say then that it’s anti-Romantic.

It’s anti-Romantic, but people would say it’s romantic sometimes. Which shows a very bad understanding of romantic music itself. Actually maybe the best examples of my music are those last pieces … Copernicus, Lonely Child, Marco Polo, Samarkand, OrionBoukhara. There I dropped completely what was terribly important in western music, counterpoint, and I was only working with melody. That’s the most important link with non-western music. The melody is almost automatic. There’s a lot of automism in my music in fact, even if it doesn’t sound like it. The melody gives the colors, and sometimes even a counterpoint, but only as a matter of phase-shifting, and even the phase-shifting, I use it less and less.

Well, Lonely Child seems to be pure melody.

It’s pure melody, with colors on top of it, and the colors are contrapuntal. Whereas Boukhara, which is the purest one I’ve done – 13 minutes of melody – there’s only the colors. And the very last one, Et Je Rêverai Cette Ville Etrange, there’s only melody. In the opera I used harmony, in Orion I used mirror chords, things like that, to get the colors, and in Lonely Child I use the colors. I’ve gotten maybe to the purest form of one melody, in Et Je Rêverai Cette Ville Etrange. In Marco Polo, I did a whole development with one sound; interval, harmony, harmony plus colors, interval plus colors, and that made up the whole piece. And in that piece, there is a fluidity of melodic treatment and development to color. And there are sometimes lines, and even directions…and transformations of the colors. For instance, sheer color to rhythmical patterns to noise…

This is getting back to your notion of cellular development.

Yeah. But it’s also process development … Though not in the last one. There’s a process, somehow the color goes somewhere. But at the same time, because of the melody, there is a stasis, it doesn’t really go anywhere!