Run Time: Approx. 45 min.

“I love the mysterious sounds of the fields and forests, water and mountains… it pleases me greatly to be called a poet of nature, for nature has truly been the book of books for me.”

—Jean Sibelius

Jean Sibelius was a Finnish composer living at a time when Finland was still under Russian rule. His importance to the Finnish people is difficult to overstate: not only is he regarded as the nation’s greatest composer, but his music has also been credited with helping to forge and sustain a strong cultural identity as the Grand Duchy of Finland resisted persistent attempts at Russification. His works roused deep feelings of patriotism, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that his music played a role in Finland’s successful campaign for independence. Today, Sibelius is a national icon. He has appeared on several markkaa (Finnish currency), and in 2015 was featured on a commemorative Euro. The country’s foremost music school proudly bears the name Sibelius-Akatemia.

Sibelius also played a defining role in developing the symphonic sound that we’ve come to think of as distinctly Nordic. But ask any musician about Sibelius, and the first word you will likely hear is nature. The outdoors was his most beloved sanctuary, and his music feels inseparable from it, just as Finnish identity and culture is intrinsically linked to the nation’s unique geography. Perhaps conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy captured it best when he said that Sibelius’s evocation of nature is “not superficial. It’s not a depiction of nature. It is what we are and what surrounds us. It’s our existence. It’s in our hearts and minds.”

This feels exactly right. Many works conjure the mood of a pastoral scene or a great tempest, but with Sibelius, you’re not merely glimpsing a picture of the natural world; you are in it. The flight of birds. The sparkle of the sun on the snow. The frantic swish of rushing water. The hush as the world seems to still when the sun hangs low in the sky. These scenes emerge from his scores with remarkable vividness, and I believe that he achieves this feat of musical cinema in a few distinct ways.

Structure
Sibelius largely eschews the traditional forms of Western European art music. Yes, this symphony follows the familiar four-movement structure, but inside each movement the music builds episodically: themes appear first as fragments and gradually coalesce, rather than arriving fully formed. This may seem like an overly technical point, but whether we know it or not, we expect music to follow certain patterns, with themes recurring in the usual places. Sibelius largely ignores those expectations and lets his music unfold organically. The result is a sense of spontaneity that mirrors the experience of observing nature, perhaps sitting on a bench watching the clouds drift by.

Moments of pause
Most music born of the Western Classical tradition is highly concerned with motion—it’s always going somewhere or leading to something, every note economical and purposeful. Sibelius, by contrast, allows for moments of pause. He lingers in sonorities that are simply beautiful, when for an instant the clock no longer ticks. Isn’t this what it’s like to gaze out at a breathtaking landscape? For a moment, time ceases to matter.

Texture
Sibelius’s orchestration is full of multi-layered texture. Rather than a single melody supported by accompaniment, he builds orchestral landscapes in layers of unique characters. A flute might hold a glittering trill over smooth strings, which in turn glide under stately brass—like chattering birds flying over a placid lake. Distinct melodies fit together but maintain their independence, creating dynamic and multidimensional scenes.

Ephemeral Beauty 
Throughout his works, Sibelius offers some of the most exquisitely beautiful moments in music, but often they do not return. While Sibelius does revisit material, it’s never quite the same. Like a breathtaking scene in nature, such moments are fleeting. This can be exceptionally frustrating, but it also renders these radiant moments quite precious. When you are struck by something truly beautiful in this music, you mustn’t take it for granted—you might not hear it again.

–Notes by Valerie Sly, 2025