The ‘Pines of Rome’ by Ottorino Respighi is a favourite piece of mine, featuring a huge orchestra building from nothing to one of the most climactic endings in all music! It’s a spectacular celebration of the sound of an orchestra! In this episode I share insights into this piece and I discuss ‘What is music?’ and ‘What led to the invention of the orchestra?’

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A picture speaks a thousand words, but music speaks a thousand pictures. Welcome to the A Thousand Pictures podcast.

Hi! My name’s Scott Wilson. I’m a conductor and I’m passionate about classical music. In this podcast we discover the music of one of our greatest artforms. We listen to a new piece in each episode, I share insights into the music, and over time, I’ll take you on a journey through classical music’s composers, musicians, and history. Everything’s discussed in an easily digestible way, and no prior knowledge is needed. This podcast is for you!

Today we’re listening to ‘The Pines of Rome’ by the composer Ottorino Respighi. It’s a favourite piece of mine, and it features a huge orchestra building from nothing to one of the most climactic endings in all music. I hope you enjoy it! And here’s a taste of what’s to come!

[music excerpt]

Let’s go from the start of the piece. If you listen carefully, you’re gonna hear large drums, called timpani, being beaten in the distance. Though it’s straightforward to compose and to perform, for an audience-member, quiet, repetitive drum beats are profound: something’s happening and it’s approaching. Alongside this, the lowest-pitch string instruments in the orchestra - the Double Basses - join in with a piano to emphasise the beating of the timpani. Together they create a slow march. On top of this, an instrument - a bass clarinet - slithers upwards and downwards. It’s a haunting sound, and it adds to the foreboding feeling in the music. 

[music excerpt]

I love the sense of anticipation I feel when listening to this music. Is something coming towards us? And when I’m conducting the beginning of this piece, I’m trying to set that tone. I want the audience to feel connected to the music: wide-eyed and listening intently for whatever may lie ahead. Hopefully audience members will feel a palpable intensity, both in the quality of sound from the orchestra and within the atmosphere of the concert hall itself.

So, let’s listen again. Above the marching footsteps of the timpani, piano, and double basses you’ll hear quiet, menacing sounds from horns.

[music excerpt]

The pressure builds with that high-pitched entrance of the violins. It sounds like something from a horror movie. Perhaps it’s a whimper? Or maybe it’s the strained breathing of someone, terrified and hiding? What’s coming? And where from? We don’t know; but the march relentlessly drives us on. Further down the unknown path an English Horn - which is a kind of big oboe - enters playing strange, hypnotic music, a bit like a snake charmer. As you listen, follow the shapes of the melody played by this lone musician. Perhaps you feel like you’re being churned around like a piece of clothing in a slow-motion washing machine, stretched this way and pulled that way. How does the unique sound of this instrument make you feel?

[music excerpt]

When listening to that, perhaps you felt, ‘wow, this is unusual!’ Or maybe you thought that the music sounded like some kind of magic, pulling you into its spell! Or more likely, you responded in an entirely different way. Music has an ability to affect our emotions. And furthermore, each one of us responds in a unique way. The sounds as imagined by the composer, which are then realised by the performers, have an ability to communicate numerous simultaneous emotions to each individual listener.

Just as we say ‘a picture speaks a thousand words’, I say ‘music speaks a thousand pictures’. Though a picture would need a thousand words in order to describe it, music would need each of the one thousand words from each of the one thousand pictures in order to convey the richness of our individual responses to music. Music’s ability to communicate with us in this sincere and vibrant way is special and it’s one of the most powerful of human experiences.

But how do we define what music actually is? On the one hand, the answer to this question is straightforward. You and I know what music is: we hear it every day. But, when you try to explain what music is, definitively, the answer can be difficult to pinpoint. Most frequently I hear the definition deduced to ‘music is organised sound’. But this is SO unsatisfactory. And indeed, if I have devoted my life to the pursuit of ‘organised sound’ I should stop. Music means much more than this, to me, to you, and to nearly everyone.

So in order to define ‘music’ in a way I feel is accurate, but also representative of it’s immense worth, I say ‘music is a celebration of the beauty of sound and / or the communication of emotions through sound’. Once again, ‘Music is a celebration of the beauty of sound and / or the communication of emotions through sound’. Sometimes music is written for the pure joy of beautiful sound, and at other times, music is just raw, passionate emotion. But, classical music most often celebrates beautiful sound whilst simultaneously communicating emotions to a listener. And of course, I’m looking forward to hearing your responses to this definition of music, and to further exploring this question of ‘what is music?’ over the next few episodes.

Okay, so now let’s listen to a favourite moment of mine in all music! It happens after the English Horn solo which we heard before. This entrance, played by the horns, shines daylight on what has, I think, been a somewhat gloomy and unsettling piece so far. And this begins us in earnest on our journey upwards, towards the full-technicolour brilliance of the ending.

[music excerpt]

Did you hear the change of colour a few moments ago? A new instrument has joined: the trumpets. I’m going to pick up where we left off, and in a few seconds you’ll hear the trumpets again, now marching closer to us. The noble sound of the instrument makes the hairs stand on the back of my neck. These kings of the orchestra can call to attention an audience like no other instrument. Very gradually the orchestra grows. Something enormous is moving towards us.

[music excerpt]

As I listen, I close my eyes and let my imagination run wild! I’ve constructed a scene for myself. The beginning was dark; nighttime. But with the increasingly bright and celebratory sound of the music, dawn has broken. The brass fanfares and the marching rhythms create a sound-world that’s surely representing the military. Over there, in the distance, I see an army approaching. Are they here to rescue us? Or are they triumphantly returning from battle?

Of course, this is merely how I hear the music. Importantly, in every piece of classical music, the composer is passing over responsibility to you - to the listener - to imagine their own journey through the piece. And because each individual responds to music in a unique way, you have the opportunity to create your own meaning, to find your own story, and to interpret what you hear in whatever way you’d like.

Here’s the orchestra in full flight, buoyantly marching onwards!

[music excerpt]

This is the glorious sound of an early twentieth century orchestra. Of course though, this enormous orchestra wasn’t just suddenly imagined, but it arrived at this point as part of an ongoing strive by composers to thrill audiences with beautiful sound. Prior to the mid 18th Century, composers would choose instruments on a piece-by-piece basis. This gave a unique sound to each piece. But viewed in retrospect, composers were experimenting with what might become the very best ensemble of instruments both to communicate emotions to audiences and to delight them with sound.

At around 1750, the fundamental constitution of an orchestra takes shape. A string section of less than twenty players becomes standardised into two groups of violins, and one each of violas, cellos and double basses. Added to this were pairs of woodwind instruments - flutes, oboes, clarinets and bassoons - and two horns, two trumpets, and timpani. This collection of instruments has a proportional balance of high-pitched instruments, middle-range instruments, and low instruments. Also, an ideal balance of volume and sound is able to be maintained. This collection of instruments is the foundation of an orchestra.

Over time, composers explored an ever-larger world of musical sounds, increasing the expressive potential of orchestras by expanding the number of instruments. By the early twentieth century, the size of the woodwind, brass, and string sections of an orchestra stabilised at a total of around 80 musicians. However, the use of percussion instruments continued to increase throughout the century. In the next episode we’ll listen to the piece ‘La Mer’ by the composer Claude Debussy. In that piece you’ll hear percussion instruments being used to subtly enrich the sound of an orchestra. But in ‘The Pines of Rome’ we hear percussion instruments adding explosive brilliance to the sound.

So, while I’ve been yapping on, the piece - ‘The Pines of Rome’ - has been continuing to build towards the climax, which we’ll listen to now. In the percussion section, you’ll hear cymbals being clashed together, the timpani and the bass drum driving the music forwards, and at the top of the orchestra’s sound, the shimmering of a single triangle.

[music excerpt]

In the last few seconds, you could hear the buccine instruments. Fantastically, a buccina is an old Roman Army instrument that no longer exists! This is Respighi using his artistic licence; he’s romanticising, conveying to the musicians his desire to recall the grandiosity of the former Empire! By necessity, the orchestra substitutes these extinct instruments for a brass ensemble including trumpets and trombones. These musicians are standing in three groups, behind the audience, facing the orchestra. They call back and forth with the orchestra - from the rear of the concert hall to the stage and back again. I’ll replay this moment in the music right now, can you imagine these instruments surrounding you with sound?

[music excerpt]

When preparing to conduct this piece, I must ask myself, ‘why is this piece called ‘The Pines of Rome’?’ By looking at the score, I see that this forth and final movement from ‘The Pines of Rome’ has the subtitle: ‘The Pines of the Appian Way’. A little research reveals that the Appian Way was, during the Roman Empire, the major road connecting the south of Italy to Rome. But it’s unlikely that this dramatic and awe-inspiring music is merely an aural depiction of pine trees along a road. So I conclude that the piece must be about the sound, imagery, and magnificence of an army returning to Rome via the Appian Way, flanked by the majestic pines trees.

But most importantly, as I suggested earlier, though this information is interesting, you don’t actually need to know it! Though the composer has a vision for the piece, and the musicians have their own interpretation of the piece, you have the opportunity to create your own meaning in what you hear.

But on some days, you might not even feel compelled to do this! Always know that the music can simply be enjoyed for itself: as a celebration of beautiful sound.

Well here we go: the ending! Imagine it as it’d be in a concert hall. On stage there are more than eighty virtuosic musicians performing at maximum exertion. Calling to them from the rear of the concert hall are the groups of buccine instruments. And in the middle is you, surrounded by sound! I know you’ll love this: here are the final moments of The Pines of Rome!

[music excerpt]

Isn’t the sheer brilliance of the sound totally inspiring? It leads to tears forming in my eyes. It’s overwhelming. And at that final chord, I find it impossible not to have a beaming smile across my face. What spectacular music!

Thank you for being with me for this episode of A Thousand Pictures. If you have questions or would like to make a suggestion of a piece or topic for a future episode, please get in touch via social media or email feedback@athousandpictures.com. Further information, a link to the recording featured in today’s podcast, and suggestions about what to listen to next can be found at athousandpictures.com. Or, subscribe to our email list and you’ll receive this information directly to your inbox.

Today we’ve been listening to the fourth movement from ‘The Pines of Rome’ composed by Ottorino Respighi. I recommend the recording by the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by JoAnn Falletta.

And finally, please subscribe, please rate and review, and please share this podcast with others. Your support is valuable and it’s appreciated: together we can create a community which celebrates classical music! Now go and listen to this wonderful piece, and get out there and hear a performance by your local orchestra!

[music excerpt]