BEGIN BY LISTENING AND ASKING “WHO IS SPEAKING?”

Imagine that you hear three compositions written for the same performing forces. All three are performed by a string orchestra, yet the first sounds like quiet mourning, the second like a distant flickering light, and the third resembles a tense conversation in which moments of calm are repeatedly interrupted by anxiety. The list of instruments alone would not explain why these compositions are so different. You would need to listen to the tempo, dynamics, melody, harmony, timbre, repetitions and silence, and then ask: who created this music, when was it composed and which ideas mattered to its creator?

A composer is not merely a surname printed beneath the title of a composition. A composer chooses what to focus on: the fragility of nature, historical memory, faith, injustice, loneliness or human hope. The same genre can become a public protest for one composer, a personal confession for another, and a laboratory of tone colours for a third. A composer’s biography and historical context therefore help us ask more precise questions, but they do not replace listening. A biography cannot automatically “translate” music – an interpretation must be based on what we actually hear.

Performers also help shape the meaning of a composition. A composer may write for a familiar soloist, choir or orchestra, knowing their abilities and sound. The location of the premiere, the conductor’s decisions and the historical experiences of listeners can also influence how music is received. A creator’s world is therefore not an isolated biography. It is a network of relationships between the composer, performers, institutions and society.

In this lesson, you will encounter several very different Latvian composers. In the music of Pēteris Vasks, nature, silence, light and moral anxiety often meet. Pēteris Plakidis can evoke cultural memory through timbre. Maija Einfelde creates a dramatic and tense musical language. Rihards Dubra turns towards the sacred, while Ēriks Ešenvalds and Arturs Maskats demonstrate how a Latvian creator can operate on the international stage while also shaping the cultural life of their own country.

THE CREATOR’S WORLD: BIOGRAPHY, TIME AND MUSICAL DECISIONS

A creator’s world consists of more than the dates of their life. It includes their family environment, teachers, the literature they have read, faith, experiences of nature and the city, historical upheavals, performers they have encountered and opportunities to express their ideas publicly. A composer transforms these experiences through musical means: choosing the performing forces, pitch, rhythm, texture, form and timbre.

Slow music does not necessarily mean that the composer had a sad life, and dissonance is not direct evidence of political protest. A reliable interpretation brings together three elements: audible features of the composition, knowledge of the circumstances in which it was created and a clearly formulated argument. It is important to distinguish between the composer’s intention and the listener’s interpretation. A statement by the composer or a programme note is a valuable source, but music may also generate meanings that the composer did not explicitly identify. A responsible listener presents an interpretation as a well-supported possibility rather than as the single indisputable truth.

THE LATE SOVIET PERIOD: A “DOUBLE LIFE” AND AESOPIAN LANGUAGE

Much of the work of the older generation of Latvian composers developed during the years of Soviet occupation. Cultural institutions were supervised by the state, public repertoire was influenced by ideological requirements, and religious, national or politically inconvenient themes could be restricted. Musicologist Baiba Jaunslaviete describes this situation as a “double life”: at the official level it was necessary to adapt, while compositions could contain other meanings. The Composers’ Union organised concerts, discussed new compositions and was involved in their publication and commissioning. An ideologically desirable title could help a composition enter a concert programme or secure a larger fee, while an inconvenient text could close the door. The system, however, did not operate in exactly the same way in every case: some works were ignored, others passed through because of an abstract instrumental title, while still others communicated a subtext to listeners that official supervisors failed to notice.

Composers could not openly state that they were writing about occupation, the desire for freedom or violence by the authorities. Aesopian language therefore became important – indirect communication through images and allusions. A bird could signify freedom; a dying sea could represent not only an ecological catastrophe but also the threat of destruction more broadly; the intonation of a folk song could represent the continuity of cultural memory. Sacred meaning could be expressed without a direct religious text – through chorale-like sonorities, contemplation or imagery of light. This does not mean that every reference to nature was an encoded protest. Historical context did, however, change the way a composition was understood. A theme that was officially acceptable could contain another subtext recognisable to listeners.

In the late 1980s, as political liberalisation and national revival began, previously suppressed themes became more explicit. Maija Einfelde’s Sad Serenades – Three Songs for a Dying Sea (1988) portrayed ecological catastrophe through harsh, painful sounds of the clarinet and strings. By 1989, explicitly Christian compositions were already appearing in concert life, including Einfelde’s Crucifixus and Rihards Dubra’s Ave Maria.

PĒTERIS VASKS – NATURE, SILENCE, LIGHT AND MORAL RESPONSIBILITY

Pēteris Vasks was born in 1946 in Aizpute into the family of a Baptist pastor. Because of his father’s profession and his family’s lack of affiliation with the Communist Party, his path towards studying in Latvia was not easy, so he studied double bass in Lithuania. He later performed in orchestras, completed composition studies at the Latvian Conservatory and became one of the internationally best-known Latvian composers. During the early period of his creative career, Vasks encountered the restrictions of censorship. Instrumental music provided an opportunity to express ideas without a text that could be directly scrutinised. In his works, folk music often appears not as a literal quotation but as an allusion – a melodic turn, a rhythmic formula, a texture reminiscent of singing or the impression of a distant cultural memory. This is an important distinction: a quotation can be recognised as a fragment of a specific melody, whereas an allusion merely evokes a sense of resemblance and memory.

In Vasks’s music, nature is not merely a beautiful background. Birdsong may signify freedom and vulnerability, silence may represent contemplation, and light may suggest hope and moral support. His music often moves between two poles: fragile, song-like lyricism and suddenly erupting threat. The listener encounters not a peaceful landscape but a world in which beauty must be protected.

When listening, it is useful to observe how Vasks builds emotional tension. It often begins with a single voice or a calm sonority, gradually becomes denser, reaches a painful climax and then falls silent again. Such a form resembles not a plot made up of events but an inner journey. A quiet ending does not necessarily mean defeat: it may leave space for hope, prayer or a question that the listener must answer personally.
Musica dolorosa for string orchestra was composed in 1983 in memory of the composer’s sister Marta. The title means “sorrowful music”, but its meaning is not limited to this biographical fact. Slow movement, tense sonorities, growing climaxes and subsiding intensity transform personal grief into a universal experience of loss.

Lauda per orchestra (1986) was dedicated to the 150th anniversary of the birth of folklore collector Krišjānis Barons. It contains allusions to chorale, singing and intonations reminiscent of Latvian folk dance. Contemporary orchestral colours meet cultural memory, yet the music does not become a collection of folk melodies. The composer creates his own narrative about the survival of tradition.
The Concerto for Violin and String Orchestra Tālā gaisma (Distant Light, 1997), internationally known as Distant Light, sets the voice of a solitary violin against the collective field of strings. Light can be understood here as a distant hope that is difficult to reach. The work demonstrates Vasks’s characteristic ability to combine song-like melody, silence, inner tension and a broad emotional arc.

PĒTERIS PLAKIDIS – TIMBRE AS CULTURAL MEMORY

Pēteris Plakidis (1947–2017) was a composer, pianist and teacher. His music is characterised by intellectual control of form, theatrical vitality, irony and a highly precise selection of instrumental colours. The idea of a composition can therefore emerge not only through melody but also through the question of who performs it and what kind of sonic memory the chosen timbre evokes.

In the symphonic work Dziedājums / Canto, two harps in one episode evoke the sound of the kokle. The composer does not present a specific folk melody, but the timbre of the strings and a light dance pulse evoke an allusion to Latvian tradition. It encounters the sounds of the contemporary orchestra and even the colour of an electric guitar. The past is therefore not simply repeated – it appears as a fragile layer of cultural memory that briefly emerges. This episode is surrounded by sharper and more dramatic sounds, so the colour reminiscent of the kokle is perceived as a distant ideal rather than everyday tranquillity. Plakidis allows timbre to perform the role that, in another composition, might be performed by a quoted melody or a verbal programme explanation.

MAIJA EINFELDE – DRAMA, TENSION AND AN UNCOMFORTABLE TRUTH

Maija Einfelde’s music is often not intended simply to soothe the listener. It features pronounced contrasts, dissonances, dense textures and light that is achieved only with difficulty. Such a sound makes it possible to address human vulnerability, injustice and responsibility, so drama becomes not an external effect but an ethical position.

In Sad Serenades for clarinet and string quartet, the composer uses extreme instrumental sounds that may evoke polluted water or birds covered in oil. The ecological theme is heard here as a painful warning. Einfelde’s Crucifixus, publicly performed in 1989, also reflects the return of sacred music to Latvian concert life. Both examples reveal a composer who uses musical tension to make the listener confront a problem rather than turn away from it. Einfelde’s example is particularly important for understanding why a creator’s voice does not have to be pleasant or immediately recognisable. At times, a deliberately harsh timbre and interrupted melody convey the pain of a chosen subject more accurately than a beautiful, continuous cantilena.Maija Einfelde’s music is often not intended simply to soothe the listener. It features pronounced contrasts, dissonances, dense textures and light that is achieved only with difficulty. Such a sound makes it possible to address human vulnerability, injustice and responsibility, so drama becomes not an external effect but an ethical position.

In Sad Serenades for clarinet and string quartet, the composer uses extreme instrumental sounds that may evoke polluted water or birds covered in oil. The ecological theme is heard here as a painful warning. Einfelde’s Crucifixus, publicly performed in 1989, also reflects the return of sacred music to Latvian concert life. Both examples reveal a composer who uses musical tension to make the listener confront a problem rather than turn away from it. Einfelde’s example is particularly important for understanding why a creator’s voice does not have to be pleasant or immediately recognisable. At times, a deliberately harsh timbre and interrupted melody convey the pain of a chosen subject more accurately than a beautiful, continuous cantilena.

RIHARDS DUBRA – SACRED CONTEMPLATION

Sacred music lies at the centre of Rihards Dubra’s creative work. Choir, organ, Latin texts, chant-like intonations and slowly unfolding sonorities help him create a space of prayer and contemplation. Works such as Ave Maria, his Masses and Te Deum connect ancient traditions of Christian music with contemporary harmony.

In Dubra’s music, silence and a slow tempo do not mean passivity. The listener’s attention is directed towards the duration of sound, the blending of voices and a gradual movement towards light. His sacred works, which began to appear publicly towards the end of the Soviet period, reflected not only personal faith but also the return of a form of cultural expression that had long been restricted. Sacredness can therefore be recognised not only through a Latin text. It can also be created by acoustic space, a chorale-like melody, long pauses and a musical progression from tension towards tranquillity.

ĒRIKS EŠENVALDS AND ARTURS MASKATS – THE CREATOR ON THE INTERNATIONAL STAGE

Ēriks Ešenvalds, born in 1977, is best known as a composer of choral music. For many years, he himself sang in the professional State Choir “Latvija”, so his understanding of the choir comes not only from the score but also from the performer’s experience. His music features resonant layers of voices, luminous harmony, images of nature and the sky, and unusual colours. Works such as Stars and Only in Sleep are performed by numerous choirs around the world. Ešenvalds’s international activity demonstrates that a connection with Latvian choral culture can become not a closed national label but a creative point of departure for a global audience.

Arturs Maskats, born in 1957, combines the experience of a composer and cultural organiser. He has written music for theatre, choir, orchestra and the opera stage, and through his work at the Latvian National Opera he contributed to the institution’s artistic direction. His orchestral Tango and opera Valentina demonstrate a broad range – from dance impulse and colourful orchestration to historical memory and the drama of human fate. Maskats’s example reminds us that creators shape culture not only by writing notes. They can bring performers together, initiate productions and help works reach an audience.

Ešenvalds and Maskats belong to different generations, but both challenge the assumption that national identity means isolation. A composition may be performed in Cambridge, New York or Vienna and still retain a connection with Latvian choral tradition, historical experience or the composer’s cultural environment.

HOW TO LISTEN TO THE CREATOR RATHER THAN ONLY TO THEIR BIOGRAPHY

After becoming familiar with composers, it is easy to begin applying labels: Vasks – nature, Plakidis – timbre, Einfelde – drama, Dubra – sacredness. A label can provide an initial point of orientation, but it is not a final answer. The same composer changes from one work to another, and a single concept cannot explain their entire output. The world of Latvian composers is not uniform. It includes quiet personal mourning, ecological warning, an allusion to cultural memory, the contemplation of prayer, theatrical drama and the brilliance of the international choral stage.

These differences reveal the most important idea of this lesson: a country’s musical culture is created not by a single “national sound” but by many creative personalities who bring their own experiences, values and questions into a shared history.

ACTIVITY 1 | WATCH THE VIDEOS AND ENTER THE MISSING WORDS

VIDEO 1 | DANIELIUS DAPKŪNAS: WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO KNOW THE CREATOR?

VIDEO 2 | GABRIELĖ GRICIŪTĖ: THE CREATORS’ DOUBLE LIFE

VIDEO 3 | DAUGIRDAS STANKUS: THE MUSICAL WORLD OF PĒTERIS VASKS

VIDEO 4 | AUSTĖJA VALAITYTĖ: DIFFERENT VOICES OF LATVIAN CREATORS

ACTIVITY 2 | FIND THE CREATOR: “FIND THE HOTSPOT”

ACTIVITY 3 | ESSAY “HOW CAN THE CREATOR’S WORLD BE HEARD IN MUSIC?”

WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER?

• A composer’s biography helps us ask questions, but it does not replace attentive listening.
• Latvian composers during the Soviet period experienced censorship and often lived a creative “double life”.
• Aesopian language made it possible to speak about freedom, memory, ecology and faith through allusions.
• Nature, birds, silence, light and moral responsibility are important themes in Pēteris Vasks’s creative work.
• “Musica dolorosa”, “Lauda per orchestra” and “Distant Light” reveal different aspects of Vasks’s musical world.
• Pēteris Plakidis can evoke cultural memory through timbre without presenting a literal quotation of a folk melody.
• In Maija Einfelde’s music, drama and tension can become an ecological or moral warning.
• Sacred contemplation is important in the music of Rihards Dubra.
• Ēriks Ešenvalds and Arturs Maskats reveal the international and organisational role of the contemporary creator.
• A reliable interpretation must answer two questions: “What do I hear?” and “Why does this allow me to understand the composition in this way?”

END-OF-LESSON REFLECTION

Complete the three sentences:

• Before this lesson, I thought that a composer’s biography…
• The composer I found most interesting was…, because…
• The next time I listen to an unfamiliar composition, I will first pay attention to…

SOURCES USED