Herman D. Koppel Edition, Vol. 2: Piano Variations

Mosaics

By Christian Westergaard and Esben Tange

Herman D. Koppel held strong opinions on his contemporaries and predecessors in the world of music. In 1932, at just 23 years old, he penned a significant article in the Danish Music Journal, extolling the virtues of Stravinsky and Bartók while expressing his disdain for Anton Webern.

However, as the years passed, Koppel’s stance softened, and he became more accepting of those he had previously criticised. Notably, he came to fully appreciate the music of Arnold Schoenberg, which he had once denigrated as ‘unhealthy and degenerate’ in his youth. This change of heart culminated in 1979 when, at the age of 70, Koppel performed Schoenberg’s complete piano works in a series of concerts. With a non-dogmatic approach focused on the musical expression itself rather than analysis and drawing on his lifelong exploration of rhythmic music from Stravinsky, Bartók, and jazz, he delivered captivating interpretations that resonated with the Danish music press.

As Koppel’s curiosity grew, he remained loyal to his contemporaneous idols, particularly Carl Nielsen, Bartók, Stravinsky, and Prokofiev, who towered above others in his esteem. These composers played a pivotal role in Koppel’s teaching of countless pianists as a piano teacher and professor at the Royal Danish Music Conservatory from 1949 to 1978. In his own music, Koppel also engaged in a dialogue with the giants of his century: both those whose style came naturally to him and those whose music he only grew to appreciate over time.

We experience this exemplarily in Variations and Fugue, Op. 3 (1929) and 15 Miniatures for Piano, Op. 97a (1976). In these two works, composed at the beginning and end of his life, Koppel demonstrates his unique ability to create musical snapshots that, like mosaics, form a larger whole.

When Koppel composed Variations and Fugue, Op. 3, he was still a student, and the influence of Carl Nielsen is evident. Like Nielsen’s Chaconne , Op. 32 (1917), he begins with a single contemplative theme, from which a series of short, organically connected variations emerge, paying homage to Johann Sebastian Bach’s grand passacaglias, especially those written for organ. Koppel’s music here is inherently harmony-seeking, which provokes his friend, the culturally radical jazz-interested composer Bernhard Christensen (1906–2004), to describe Koppel’s new work as ‘romanticism dressed in superficial modernism.’

Koppel took the criticism to heart and put the work aside for over 50 years. Nevertheless, the music remains powerful and impactful, and with the concluding fugue, he not only provides a satisfying conclusion but also bridges the gap between a venerable compositional tradition and a new era characterised by rhythmic vitality and neoclassical influences. Furthermore, the young Koppel, with his grand symphonic piano treatment in the final variations, already reveals his affinity for Brahms’ music.

About a decade later, in early 1942, Koppel composed his charming little piano piece, Pastorale. Characterised by light, delicate colours, a swaying 6/8 time signature, and an elegiac, singing middle section. The same year, the Pastorale was incorporated as the middle movement of the Sextet for Piano and Wind Quintet, Op. 36, one of Koppel’s most popular and cheerful works. Here, there is no hint of the ominous darkness that befell Denmark with the Jewish persecution of World War II, which had already led to discrimination and restricted Koppel’s travel opportunities in the 1930s.

The Pastorale was connected to the life that, despite external threats, managed to thrive for Koppel, who had now started a family and was the father of two small girls. The piece is dedicated to Lis Jacobsen, a close friend whose holiday house in Humlebæk became a sanctuary for the growing family in the late 1930s and early war years. The year after, Herman and Lis, along with their families, were among the 8,000 Danish Jews who managed to flee to Sweden at the last minute.

Despite the tumultuous events preceding and during the war, Koppel flourished as a composer. In later years, he reflected on his creative process, saying: ‘I never struggled with composition during this period. The music accumulated within me, and once I began writing, it flowed effortlessly into existence.’

In 1976, at the age of 67, Koppel was once again seized by profound inspiration, yielding the 15 Miniatures for Piano, Op. 97a. This burst of creativity was sparked by an extended sojourn in Australia, where his youngest daughter, opera singer Lone Koppel, had settled with her family. ‘I had a marvelous time,’ Koppel recalled, ‘with a piano at my beck and call all day, a delightful climate, and everything in perfect harmony, which led me to start writing these pieces.’

The fortunate circumstances resulted in 15 piano pieces, each with its own unique character, yet interconnected, as each new piece is crafted as an extension of the previous one, often sharing a familial bond. The individual miniatures have an aphoristic nature, presenting a clear and simple musical idea from the outset. With a free tonality, partly inspired by Balinese gamelan music, the miniatures often have a floating quality, comparable to Alexander Calder’s (1898–1976) mobiles, which were gaining prominence at the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Humlebæk during the same period.

The 15 Miniatures are not only a pianistic masterpiece by Koppel, but also a landmark of Danish piano music from that era, beautifully encapsulating the spirit of a time when beauty still had a place amidst upheaval and the dismantling of hierarchies. Furthermore, Koppel simultaneously establishes connections to classical modernism, which has shaped his work.

Similarly to Prokofiev’s exquisite piano miniatures, Visions fugitives , Op. 17 (1917), Koppel aims to distil the music while imbuing it with a sense of weightless, effortless fluidity. In terms of piano technique, we find ourselves in proximity to the dense, complex approach characteristic of Schoenberg’s ground-breaking piano works from the early 20th century, which Koppel had thoroughly assimilated by the 1970s.

The culmination of the 15 Miniatures is the final movement, ‘Coda’, where he demonstrates his mastery by skilfully condensing the preceding 14 pieces into a cohesive whole. Upon reflection, the initial movements reveal themselves as variations on a central theme.

Furthermore, Koppel’s work nods to the classical sonnet sequence, where 14 sonnets are gathered into a master sonnet. Considering this, the 15 Miniatures may be regarded as a precursor to Inger Christensen’s esteemed sonnet sequence, Sommerfugledalen, published in 1991. As Koppel was also a man of letters, with the Bible, Georg Brandes, Tom Kristensen, musician biographies, and James Joyce on his reading list, he must have derived great pleasure from it.