Introduction
The Planets, Op. 32 is a seven movement suite by the English composer Gustav Holst. It debuted at Queen’s Hall, London on the 29th of September, 1918, and was conducted by Adrian Boult.
In 1913, Holst took a trip to Spain with Clifford Bax who introduced him to astrology. This inspired The Planets, which Holst began to compose in 1914 and finished in 1916. Each song is meant to capture the astrological traits of the seven known planets. (Pluto was discovered in 1930 and was demoted to dwarf planet in 2006).
The order of The Planets is interesting. Holst goes through the inner planets backwards (Mars, Venus, Mercury), and then the outer planets in order (Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune). Musicologist Richard Greene says, “...opening with the more disturbing character of Mars allows a more dramatic and compelling working out of the musical material.” Once Mars’ place was determined, the others fell in line.
For this review I used Herbert von Karajan's 1961 recording with the Vienna Philharmonic, remastered and published on compact disc by Decca. This album also contains Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations.
Mars, the Bringer of War
In the 11th grade my marching band played “Mars, the Bringer of War” as part of its halftime show. Its 5/4 signature was tricky to march to: instead of the right foot coming down on one and three every measure, it would fall on two and four every other. This made it easier to get lost in the music or step off with the wrong foot.
Nevertheless, the iconic Mars rhythm (described as an ostinato rhythm, counted as 1-&-a, 2, 3, 4-&, 5) became a greeting and farewell among us young men and women: we’d rap out its pattern on the door when we arrived or honked it as we drove off. “Mars, the Bringer of War” is a great introduction to classical music for young people because of its high energy and noise.
Surprisingly, Mars was written before the onset of World War One. This did not stop the piece from becoming associated with mechanized warfare. The low and high brass sections lob musical phrases at one another like artillery fire. The beginning is quiet, building up volume as it marches along. There is a “calm before the storm” moment about halfway through, then Holst blasts the audience with the ostinato rhythm in what I believe is a quadruple forte. This part invites the image of soldiers going “over the top” of their trenches. Mars ends with huge orchestral strikes - perhaps the gory aftermath.
Tempo is key here: too fast and the ending feels rushed; too slow and the energy drains out of it. Karajan takes it too fast in my opinion. This is the only criticism I have of this performance.
Mars is Holst’s most famous piece. It can be found all over pop culture, making appearances in shows like The Simpsons and video games such as Fallout 4. It inspired John Williams’ “The Imperial March” and the soundtrack to Gladiator. It is also my personal favorite of The Planets.
Venus, the Bringer of Peace
According to Imogen Holst, Gustav’s daughter, Venus, “has to try and bring the right answer to Mars.” Indeed, the juxtaposition of “Venus, the Bringer of Peace” with Mars is what I believe Holst biographer Michael Short meant by, “his only criterion being that of maximum musical effectiveness.” To place these two in any other order would have diminished that effectiveness. I suspect, though I can not prove that Holst ordered the inner planets based solely on wanting Mars first and Venus next to it. This left Mercury in third.
In any case, Short says Venus is, “one of the most sublime evocations of peace in music.” I tend to agree. However, there is a serpent in this garden. The low strings hint at something dangerous lurking but unseen.
Venus stands as a counterpoint to Mars. It’s tranquility is a welcome relief from the first movement’s ferocity.
Mercury, the Winged Messenger
I do not care much for “Mercury, the Winged Messenger.” Luckily, it is the shortest movement. Nevertheless, it is remarkable how Holst is able to evoke the quick and rapid movements a messenger with winged sandals might have. It is reminiscent of Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” from a decade and a half earlier.
Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity
The same year my marching band played Mars, the concert band played “Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity” for its spring concert. Ever since Jupiter has been my favorite of The Planets.
(The reader will recall I had claimed Mars as my favorite. That was true when I wrote that segment. Now that I am writing this one, Jupiter is my favorite. Really, it is a toss up between the two. Ask me again in 20 minutes, and I will answer, “Mars”).
Strings rush Jupiter into a boisterous fanfare. It is light and jolly, just as the name suggests. But there is some terror lurking near the end: deep strings invite images of dark waters swimming with sharks. But Jupiter rises from the depths to finish triumphantly.
The best part of Jupiter is the hymn theme, which was later appropriated for “I Vow to Thee, My Country.” In the high school arrangement I played, this segment was marked “Majestic” and was in 3/4 time. It is a slow and proud section that induces goose bumps on the listener’s skin. It is shortly followed by a peaking of notes that I will again call “triumphant.” Indeed, I associate Jupiter more with triumph than with jollity.
Like in Mars, tempo is key here: too slow and Jupiter neither sounds joyful nor triumphant, but uncertain and ponderous, like a drunk elephant.
Music inspires my original fiction more than any other thing. The above mentioned hymn section of Jupiter plays an integral role in one of my novels. I say this because I plan to serialize that novel here, on Inverted Gentleman Reviews, in late 2022.
Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age
“Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age” was Holst’s personal favorite. It makes the top three in my book. The movement opens with the tick-tocking of flutes, bassoons and harps. Not only does this elicit a sense of passing time, but its pendulous sway invokes the winding down of the human body as it ages
Something lies just beneath the surface of Saturn. We are never told what it is, but its existence is hinted at. It is mysterious and majestic, both awful and awe filled. It is, I think, Death. “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,” as Shakespeare says. Aye! dreams either terrifying or beautiful? No one knows, and those who have found out are not likely to give up their secrets.
Saturn builds tension to the point where it is almost unbearable, then it not so much releases it as it breaks down into a discordant clang-clang-clanging of bells in what I am told is a triple forte climax. The denouement fades away peacefully.
Uranus, the Magician
“Uranus, the Magician” was inspired by Dukas’ “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” Indeed, it is hard to listen to Uranus without having visions of Mickey Mouse and dancing mops. Yet, Holst’s piece is original, even unconventional. For example, musicologist Alex Burns says Holst used a “cross-rhythmic hemiola” in which two different time signatures are used for different sections of the orchestra. It has been suggested Uranus’ unconventionality represents the planet’s near horizontal axis.
Neptune, The Mystic
Had Stanley Kubrick incorporated the work of Gustav Holst in the way he had for Richard Strauss (among others) in 2001: A Space Odyssey, the Discovery One may have voyaged to Neptune rather than to Jupiter. “Neptune, the Mystic” would have made a splendid soundtrack to Dave Bowman’s celestial journey to becoming the star child.
The jewel in this crown is the wordless female choir, which fades away at the end. The effect was achieved by placing the women in an adjoining room and slowly closing the door. The effort achieves a distant, isolated feeling. It also creates a vague sense of the Lovecraftian - that is, a limitless expanse of which we are a small and inconsequential part. Lovecraft identified the planet Yuggoth with Pluto because it had just recently been discovered. But as with 2001, we can imagine Neptune as the soundtrack of Henry Wentworth Akeley’s bodiless flight to Yuggoth.
“Neptune, The Mystic” is a wonderful end to the suite. It leaves the listener feeling alone and cold and empty…like space.
Afterward
Although I love music and played in high school I am not a musical theoretician. For that reason I kept my comments largely to subjective interpretations - how the music made me feel and what it means to me. For a more in-depth look at the music of The Planets I’d recommend Alex Burns’ article at Classicalexburns.com.
I primarily used the Wikipedia article on The Planets for background information and quotes, but I checked it against other sources where possible. There are conflicting reports regarding the Spain trip, but certainly Clifford Bax introduced Holst to astrology.
Always a favorite, although I haven't listened to it in a while. Time to revisit. I wore out an old cassette copy (I can't remember who the performers were - this was when I was about ten years old) and was told by my family that I was playing the tape "ad nauseum", which at the time was the most hilarious word I'd ever heard. I also remember playing chess with my father, and part of our trash talk / banter was humming the theme from "Mars" whenever either of us made a particularly bold and ominous move.
"Saturn" has always been my favorite movement. In my mind, it describes the approach of senility. The clanging bells represent strokes or perhaps a particularly bad memory-loss incident; the ethereal closing section evokes a sense of the "second infancy" undergone by people with advanced dementia. I don't know if this is what Holst was thinking of when he wrote the piece, though!
Thanks for the fine appreciation of a splendid work.
I just realized I wrote "Afterward" instead of "Afterword." That is the trouble with spell check. Remember, boys and girls, always proofread!