Pēteris Vasks at 80

Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks, one of the leading Baltic composers of our time, is on the verge of his 80th birthday when Presto come to call. Speaking cheerfully on the line from Riga, he is nonetheless in reflective mood.

“I'm surprised that time goes by too fast. We often say the years and seasons go by so quickly, but I am a happy man because my life revolves around musicians, and that is my life – music! That's why I am happy, and also because I have been living in free Latvia for 53 years now, and we are free from the Russian Empire. Those two things make me a happy man, and a happy man gets to his birthday slowly.”

One of his presents has already been delivered by Ondine, the Helsinki-based label for whom he has collaborated in eight composer albums to date. Soon that number will swell to nine, with the release of Songs Of My Heart, a further album of short choral works, in June. Ondine have also compiled a triple album 80th anniversary edition, where the Second and Third Symphonies are flanked by the popular violin concerto ‘Distant Light’ and the Cello Concerto No. 1, two pieces that were key in establishing his reputation in the 1990s. Ondine’s third disc presents some of the fruits of Vasks’s relationship with Sigvards Kļava and the Latvian Radio Choir, which we will touch on later.

First, though, I ask Pēteris to cast his mind back to the music he listened to at home and in church while growing up? “My mother had a very beautiful voice”, he says. “She was a doctor, while my father, a pastor, also had a very beautiful voice. My younger sister played the piano, and I played the violin as a child. We had a tradition of making music at home, and I attended a music school. From a young age, I've been deeply, deeply immersed in music, and of course that also happened in church. Unfortunately, our church didn't have an organ, but there was still a lot of interesting music.”

Soon he would see music on the stage for the first time. “One of the most important experiences of my childhood was my first visit to the opera, to see Wagner's Tannhäuser. It was the first time it had been performed in the Soviet Empire after World War II – Wagner and Tannhäuser were part of the Soviet Empire at that time. We travelled specially from our house to the premiere, and it was such a positive shock for me to hear the opera and everything together. I understood early on that music is the most important thing for me, and that's why I'm still a happy man today!”

A key discovery for Vasks was the music of Lutosławski. “That was later, when I was in the Soviet Empire. It was almost impossible to get any information about music, with what was happening in Europe and in America, but it was possible to buy sheet music from Poland. Poland was also communist at the time, and in the 1960s and 1970s there was a great development of fantastic composers – Lutosławski, Górecki and of course Penderecki. It was possible to buy the scores in occupied Latvia, and they made a really deep impression. Of course Lutosławski and Górecki are very different styles, but I find them both fantastically interesting, and I actively studied their scores and listened to the recordings.

Vasks learned and played double bass in several Latvian orchestras, enabling him to learn orchestration through listening to the parts above him. “That was when I moved from my birthplace, Aizpute, to Riga, our capital”, he recalls, “and then I studied at the Emīls Dārziņš Music School. Many famous musicians came from this music school, including Gidon Kremer, Mischa Maisky and Mariss Jansons.”

It has been important for Vasks to express his love of Latvia in music, an expression heightened by the hold Russia exerted earlier in his life. “I love my country, and I think about everything I see — my country, Latvia: what it is, how it works. And of course, Russian nature and everything connected to it. Without my own people, I could not be happy. That is why we are grateful — even now. We are free now, but gratitude should remain the same.”

“I must also mention neighbouring countries”, he says, “Estonia and Lithuania. I have been to them many times, and I have also become very interested in Estonian music, and of course Arvo Pärt — naturally. We met many times, not only professionally but also personally, and I know him well. Sometimes music brings people together. Warsaw was important, and I would meet Lutosławski and Górecki there. Unfortunately, that kind of world no longer exists in the same way – such a fantastic environment for important composers is gone. But we still think about it with great affection.”

Another close friend of Vasks is violinist Gidon Kremer. “Kremer was already a very famous violinist at a young age, a prize winner, but at that time we did not yet have close contact. Later, of course, he became internationally famous. He played everywhere, worked all over the world, and was well known. But even then, he never forgot his homeland and maintained a strong interest in Baltic countries and composers. He founded the Kremerata Baltica orchestra and encouraged Baltic composers to write new works. I also composed music for them”, he says, referring principally to the Violin Concerto ‘Distant Lights’.

Key to Vasks development within vocal music has been conductor Sigvards Kļava, and the Latvian Radio Choir, who are the artists on Songs of My Heart. Typically for Vasks, the new album is typified by music of simple yet heart stopping beauty. “For a long time, such a choir hardly existed”, says Vasks, “but under Sigvard’s leadership it became extremely important. There are now many recordings, many projects, and his work has been central. He showed great interest in new, effective compositions by Latvian composers. Sigvards himself is also a composer, and I consider his personality very important. His musical language is free, expressive, and deep. 

The Latvian Radio Choir has become internationally famous through his great talent, and as you know we have released several albums together. These works are often for strings and mixed ensembles, sometimes combined with choir. In my music, singing and instruments merge — the strings “sing” just like voices. This combination is very special; I always say it is a kind of double singing: the choir sings, and the strings sing as well.” We have performed together in Riga Cathedral, which is one of the largest and most important cathedrals in the Baltic region. I was especially interested in these spiritual gatherings with such magnificent ensembles.”

Vasks often speaks of his love of nature, whose wonders infuse the Symphony No. 2. “Nature is a miracle”, he says. “Everything that God has created surrounds us. Nature is essential – everything comes from it. Birds, water, trees, forests, all of it is a miracle. Life without nature is impossible, and this is something I express in my music.” Indeed, the symphony feels like it was written outdoors. “Many of my answers come from long walks, and from many different and varied questions. That contact with nature is very important to me, it is almost like the next step when composing.

My music is shaped by the way I work. “Nature has always been an important theme, but in recent years, with all these problems and deficiencies, I feel that we do not have enough time in this world to react properly to nature. The question is – what are we doing with our existence, when there are so many terrible things in this world, and why do so many difficult and painful things happen? I speak a great deal about this, sometimes imperfectly, through different messages.”

Our talk turns from nature to another key element of Vasks’s life, spirituality. “Without faith, love cannot exist, and without hope, it is not enough”, he says passionately. “This is my path, with texts of love and beautiful songs, together with my spiritual path and my music. I also wish for instrumental music to tell these gifts. The Bible says that three things remain: faith, hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love.”

One revelation after our interview is that Vasks makes an annual call to the Ondine office in Helsinki on Independence Day, to congratulate Finland on the anniversary of their declaration. It is a mark of his deep wish that these things remain. “Of course I want this message to be expressed. The most important thing must not be lost; thinking about love, hope, and faith. When darkness comes, love returns. When night comes again, everything becomes dark, and heavy, tragic and dramatic times follow. But there is always a time of light, and even now, at this very moment, light is coming.”

He speaks with such surety that it is hard to disagree. “What moves people? What is Russia doing? There are so many problems rooted in history and the past, and people fall into deep despair when dark times come and peace does not arrive. Light seems to disappear. Many people say these are systemic problems, that this is simply how things function. But my concerns are my compositions, and my themes are faith and belief.”

Smiling, he talks about his own music. “My compositions are my children. Each child has its own name, and that is why I love giving names to my works, names connected with music, with birds, flight, travel, and journeys. For instrumental music, titles can be challenging, because they require concentration, but distance allows listeners to reflect: “What does this mean?” My musical “children” receive their names that bring themes together – memories from childhood, moments of youth. These compositions often begin with a kind of prelude, followed by small episodes, with episodes of happiness from childhood.”

New music is the art form that will remain closest to his heart, as Vasks takes time to consider some big life questions. “Books shaped my character and made me lively and expressive, but music will always return throughout my life. But today, even in freedom, something still does not fit. What is happening now? Why is there so much aggression and brutality? The situation is serious, but I remain interested in everything – in music and in what it does to us. New music can still be an opportunity. I sometimes worry that music becomes over‑constructed and no longer understandable. I observe what younger composers are doing, but with caution. It is my belief that love must be reaffirmed again and again. Closeness, simplicity, and friendship in music are essential, and culture must not be underestimated. Young people approach music with great energy, and we must stay connected to them. Without music there would be nothing, and without culture, there would be no real future. That is what I believe.”