Ilaiyaraaja’s imagination is astonishing in its breadth and richness. Over the course of five decades, he has composed more than 8,500 songs and scored music for over 1,500 films, establishing himself as one of the 25 greatest film composers of all time. Revered as Isaignani (“The Musical Sage”) and often referred to simply as “Maestro,” Ilaiyaraaja has worked across nine languages, constantly reinventing his musical expression.This monumental achievement is the first full Western Classical Symphony composed by Indian, performed by the Royal Scottish National Orchestra.

 

It would be easy to assume from this apparently constant flow of ideas that Ilaiyaraaja’s productivity is entirely effortless, connecting him to the 19th-century Western myth of the chosen composer in touch with the divine, blithely blessed with inspiration. But as with any prolific composer, this fecundity of imagination has to be accompanied by exceptional discipline so that those ideas germinate, grow, and come to fruition. Ilaiyaraaja’s work ethic is such that, rather than resting on his laurels at an age when many people would be slowing down, he has sought new outlets for expression. There is an effortlessness to the way Ilaiyaraaja approaches music.

 

How, then, should we approach listening to Ilaiyaraaja’s First Symphony? There is no programme or specific story behind this music, and as with any artwork, an individual will bring their own imagination and set of references to the experience. Cast in four movements, this is a work in the Western classical tradition that overlaps with Ilaiyaraaja’s film music heritage. As a consequence, it is vivid and resonant, suggestive of journey and narrative but reflecting that ongoing pattern.

 

We begin with ‘The Journey’, and this sense of an epic journey or quest, apparent throughout the symphony, in turn led to its overall title, ‘Valiant’. There is a heroic spirit at the heart of this music, which begins with a sense of anticipation in rhythmic lower strings supporting enigmatic themes in the woodwinds. Not for the only time in the symphony, the material is reminiscent of Sibelius in its sinewy thematic construction and sense of latent energy, but there is added colour, too, in the form of off-beat sleigh bells – which seem to suggest the beginning of an epic journey – as well as bold arpeggio brass declarations that increase the air of expectation. The music softens into more lyrical, pastoral territory before the surging opening ideas return, after which they are developed.

 

This takes us into darker, more dramatic terrain, with dissonances and cymbal motifs giving way to trumpet fanfares that herald a new, rather magical sense of adventure, repeated dotted rhythms in the woodwinds and tambourine adding to the sense of momentum. Trombones and lower woodwinds take up the dotted rhythms as flurries of notes are passed between clarinets and oboes. Horns and trumpets proclaim the arrival of an exhilarating new theme with shades of the finale of Sibelius’s Fifth Symphony, before rich chords take us towards the return of the magical material. Then, like the sudden arrival of storm clouds, a section of minor-key drama for the full orchestra seems to threaten the prevailing atmosphere of hope – soon vanquished by a folk-like fugato passage that chases the storm-clouds away, and we return to gentler material with solos from that most pastoral of instruments, the flute. The violins sing a romantic theme before the opening rhythms return, along with a sense of turbulence and forward motion; the quest continues with refreshed vigour, taking us to the final part of the movement with renewed excitement as to what will come next.

 

We move seamlessly into the second movement, ‘Solace’. Again, there is a remarkably Nordic sonority in the glacial string swells, warm brass and woodwind punctuations. This is a moment of respite after the inexorable energy of the first movement; time for rest and contemplation, perhaps of love or of nature. Yet there is animation here, too, and the first section gives way to a livelier one in which vibrant rhythms deliver an injection of energy.

 

Intertwining woodwind melodies evoke a sinuous dance, the strings taking up the folk-like material. A bold interjection from brass and percussion suggests a brief, martial interruption that is soon escaped, and the lyricism returns with a greater sense of urgency. The two contrasting opening sections are reprised, and the movement concludes with a return to the opening sonority and pace before fading to a mysterious close, ending without definite resolution in a manner that leaves us desirous of the next movement.

 

This arrives in ‘Frontier’, with bracing rhythms and call-and-response motifs, distinctive trombone slides and playful gestures from flute and piccolo. Blustery textures in strings and percussion and propulsive rhythms sustain the movement’s forward motion, while ideas articulated in the centre of the movement seem to evoke the outdoors, open-air quality of ranch or prairie.

 

This atmosphere spills over into the finale, ‘Triumph’, which begins in stately yet good-humoured fashion. Contrasting passages of minor-key tension tell us that the quest is not quite over; or at least, that the journey homewards is not without its obstacles. Again, rhythmic impetus is key to the nature of the score, perpetuating the impression of swift travel, but in this movement the more leisurely material from the opening reminds us that the previous sense of urgency is abating. Over the course of the finale, these two elements – geniality and rapidity – come together to create a celebratory atmosphere, implying resolution between the questing spirit and a more light-hearted sense of delight in homecoming; and in the final bars, the good-natured material intensifies into a burst of joy. As to the exact nature of this quest and its completion, that remains mysterious and for the listener to imagine.