After the informative conversation I had with organist Heinz-Roland Schneeberger in Thun on December 5, 2015, I continued my search for people who still knew my father, the Swiss composer Walter Furrer (1902-1978). In the course of the last few months, I have come across two such people.

During my research at the Burgerbibliothek Bern, which has been in charge of Walter Furrer's entire musical estate since June 2012, I kept coming across the name Klaus Cornell at intervals and remembered that my father had also mentioned him occasionally in conversation.

I didn't have to search for long: Not only did I find out via the homepage that Klaus Cornell has a stringent career as a conductor and composer and has been awarded a number of prizes, but also that he now lives in Constance. This is not to be taken for granted, as from 1989 to 2000 he was a successful musician in the state of Oregon (USA), where he would have been only too happy to stay. But in the end, the Bernese-born musician was drawn back to Switzerland, if not to neighboring countries. He chose Constance as his retirement home, a city that brought him closer to home but, as he emphasizes, "a little more space". I had the opportunity to talk to him there for about an hour on February 27, 2016.

In the 1960s, Walter Furrer and Klaus Cornell worked side by side in the same company. After twenty-five years as choirmaster and conductor at the Stadttheater Bern, Walter Furrer moved to Studio Radio Bern in 1957, where he worked for a good ten years as conductor, director of the chamber choir he founded on behalf of the station and composer.

In 1961, the young Klaus Cornell, who had already gained relevant professional experience in Switzerland and Germany, joined the station's team, where he held a managerial position until 1983.

He was already on the road as a composer in the 1960s, and his best-known work from this era is the 1965 radio opera Peter Schlemihl, picture book for musicwhose libretto Kurt Weibel adapted from Adelbert von Chamisso's novella Peter Schlemihl's wondrous story wrote.

When recording the Schlemihl the chamber choir conducted by Walter Furrer (see above) also took part. According to Klaus Cornell, he fondly remembers the collaboration with his older composer colleague, which also worked in the opposite direction. In 1965, for example, he was production manager for the entire recording of Furrer's commissioned composition Quatembernacht. A radio ballad based on a Valais legend for chamber orchestra, organ, soloists, choir, children's choir and speaking voices controlled. Kurt Weibel also acted as librettist in this case.

Both composers worked in the "radio play music" sector, which was particularly important for radio at the time.

Apart from the immediate professional collaboration, there were also technical discussions of a fundamental nature, for example about the congenial collaboration between librettist and composer, which is crucial for the success of an opera. The operetta genre - the so-called "light muse" was already experiencing severe hostility at the time, which, as is well known, ended with the banishment of this genre from subsidized theaters - was also the subject of fundamental discussions, whereby Walter Furrer, in view of the unbroken success of operetta, spoke out against its radical dismantling.

There was also a lot of talk about contemporary music production at the time. According to Cornell, Walter Furrer had "a critical relationship" with the contemporary music of the 1960s and 1970s - think of the prominent International Summer Courses for New Music organized by the Darmstadt International Music Institute (IMD). At first glance, this is surprising, because during his student days in Paris, Walter Furrer was in the camp of the avant-gardists, who were fiercely opposed in the 1920s, and was particularly committed to Arnold Schoenberg's music, which was by no means generally recognized at the time. He himself repeatedly resorted to serial techniques; however, as he was at the same time highly concerned with sound, his own modernity was, in my opinion, probably less ostentatious.

The resolution of this apparent contradiction came to me in a conversation with the Bernese musician, music theorist and music critic Walter Kläy, whose acquaintance Klaus Cornell had arranged for me and which took place in Bern on April 4, 2016. But first things first.

Walter Kläy first completed a practical music education (violin, bassoon, piano) and then, from 1973 to 1976, a theoretical one, which he completed with a theory teacher's diploma at the Bern Conservatory. Prior to this he worked (until 1973) at the Radio newspaper and as an editor in the foreign desk of the Swiss Dispatch Agency. In 1976, he joined Studio Radio Bern, where he worked as a music editor and also produced the highly acclaimed Late-night concerts at Studio Bernwhich were broadcast on Mondays.

Coincidentally, he worked in the same office as Walter Furrer and the conductor and pianist Luc Balmer, who worked as a versatile employee at Studio Bern at the time. Walter Kläy is co-author of the commemorative publication for Theo Hirsbrunner, which was published in 2011 under the title Dialogs and resonances/music history between cultures published by the Munich-based publisher edition text + kritik.

On September 7, 1970, Walter Kläy conducted an interview with Walter Furrer, which took place in his home in the Halensiedlung, in no. 40/1970 of the magazine radio + television and now became the central topic of our discussion. Walter Furrer had asked for a written answer to the questions, which was granted. The text of the interview contains many very precise formulations that provide important insights into the development of Furrer's oeuvre.

Furrer's three creative periods

Walter Furrer did not like to be analytical about his works, but here he made an exception. As the text reveals, he himself divided his compositional work into three periods. The first began in Paris in the 1920s, when he studied counterpoint with Nadia Boulanger and intensively studied the avant-garde composers of the time, Schönberg, Stravinsky, Roussel and Bartók.

The second was triggered by his work in the theater as a chorus master and conductor, in the sense that he was now deeply interested in "the dramatic side of music", as evidenced by the operas he wrote at the time. The faun and Dwarf nose and the ballet Path into life witnesses.

The third period was initiated by his engagement at Studio Radio Bern (from 1957) and represented a feedback to the first, "in that I made use of the knowledge of serial technique and the expansion of the linear and melodic, which simultaneously led to an expansion of the harmonic". As examples, he cites the fifth song of the cycle Five death dance songs for alto and piano after texts by Christian Morgenstern (1927), which begins with a twelve-tone row - "unconsciously, of course, but nevertheless as a reflection of my Schoenberg studies" - as well as the Psalm 142 for soprano and organwhich is "consciously worked in twelve-tone technique". However, this is "not immediately noticeable because all the other elements of the composition are assimilated into it".

Nevertheless, I think it would be wrong to see Walter Furrer as a sworn intellectual dodecaphonist. The "intellectualism associated with dodecaphony has nothing to do with my music", he emphasizes at the end of the interview. His most important concern was "always to write for the instruments, for the voices, even for the conductor. It is important to me that my performers enjoy the music ... This also allows me to reach the listener."

In this context, it is also mentioned how difficult it is for the compositional
avant-garde had in the 1920s - scandals at performances of avant-garde music were not uncommon, especially in Paris - and how easy it had it back in 1970 (and still has it today). "You can no longer compare today's avant-garde with the past," Walter Furrer says in the interview. "Today you put your hands under their feet, back then there was nothing to laugh about."

According to Walter Kläy, Walter Furrer appeared very serious, concentrated and, he was particularly struck by this, depressed during the interview. This can be explained by the truly depressing situation in which the ageing composer found himself at the time. Although his works had attracted a lot of attention and often warm applause, he had not achieved what one would call a real breakthrough. He also missed his work at the radio station, for which he only worked as a freelance conductor of the chamber choir. What's more, this highly artistic chamber choir - which had won third prize out of 59 participants at the Festival international de chant choral in Lille on October 10/11, 1962 - was already threatened with dissolution in 1970. All attempts to halt this development were in vain, and at the end of 1972 it disappeared from the scene for good.

 

I would like to thank Klaus Cornell and Walter Kläy very much for making these discussions possible.

"De la mort l'amour est prélude" is a characterizing quote by Jean Nyder from Neuchâtel, who passed away in February 1982.

For the restless piano performer, composer, poet and teacher, life was a quest for love and suffering. Born in Neuchâtel in 1923, Jean Nyder (originally Ernest Jean Niederhauser) showed astonishing pianistic abilities at an early age. After secondary school, he obtained the Diplôme de capacité in Geneva and the Prix de virtuosité in Paris.

In an interview on French television in 1968, he said of his training: "I had the good fortune to be taught by two teachers who were clearly opposites. Johnny Aubert was strictly classical, constructive, extremely objective; and Alfred Cortot reviewed this very classical work with his extraordinarily transcendent overview - he was an irreplaceable poet." When asked about his opinion on today's interpretation of romantic music, he said: "The human being is in an extraordinary dilemma. By nature, it has unlimited possibilities, but not immediately and at every moment. Such perfect precision, a large repertoire and enormous availability are demanded of a performer that sometimes, fatally, no inner development, no unfolding of the music and the musician can take place; for there are no beings who possess all gifts in the extreme. I am not talking about musicality, but about the thought that lies behind the music, about the silence that precedes the music."

Jean Nyder was able to conjure up a thousand colors from the piano and delight the listener by making them aware of what was behind the scenes. He has given concerts in Switzerland, France, Portugal and Brazil.

Back from these travels, he turned to a large circle of pupils. He gave home tuition in Bern, Biel, Neuchâtel, Lausanne, Yverdon and Geneva and used the railroad to travel, as he did the metro in Paris. With friendly love and empathy, he knew how to help even the most modest talents find artistic expression. A former pupil wrote: "Every person presented Jean Nyder with a riddle that he wanted to get to the bottom of. The mathematically and psychologically gifted artist tried to solve human equations. He radiated great kindness and had a concentrated power that attracted almost everyone. Jean Nyder refused to categorize people according to external social criteria; for him, they all formed an organism to which he simply belonged. He saw people as part of the cosmos, which he interpreted as an artist. He was a magician who exemplified art and delighted us with it."

He composed on the train and after midnight. In 1968, he explained: "For four years now, I have been in the habit of sleeping only three hours. I love composing. I have written 128 piano pieces so far. To underpin and clarify everything and to remain classical, I had the excellent teacher Charles Chaix, who was very strict. That allowed me to sift out what was too spontaneous."

In 1964, Jean Nyder wrote music for an Expo film, and in 1966 for a film about the Knie Circus, where he was fascinated by both the precision of seconds with which the music had to match the film sequences and the circus atmosphere. He said of the latter: "It is an extraordinary lesson in moral and physical balance."
His chamber music works have unconventional instrumentations, such as the 1977 quintet called Sphère cubique is for flute, oboe, violin, cello and harpsichord. The harmonies with which he exposes the basically tonal melodic fabric are colorful and dense.
After long hours of composing and teaching, the poet also stirred in Nimmermüden. In the sixties, he published three volumes of poetry and prose: Silence et carrousel, Clavier de couleur and Kaleidoscope. The latter states: "I searched in vain for a collection of poems after my heart, so I decided to write them. Silence et carrousel fell on me like a multicolored shower of rain." In the interview, he continues: "I said to myself from a very young age that happiness on earth should consist of being strong enough to create something irreplaceable. This possibility would be within everyone's reach if only they were aware of it. I don't believe that musicians or poets are extraordinary people."

Jean Nyder felt a strong affinity with versatile contemporaries such as Picasso, Cocteau, Stravinsky and suffering predecessors such as van Gogh, Rimbaud and Baudelaire and knew their works very well. His poetry speaks in strong colors of suffering, of circuses and clowns, of the tragic merry-go-round of life; of the dance of put-on masks and of the brave smile that, despite everything, appears here and there behind them.
The Journal de Bord for piano and violin, written in 1977-79, contains autobiographical features. In his dedication to Walter Amadeus Ammann, he writes: "I offer you this 'Stormy Diary'. No need to throw it into the fire! It would come out again and again. It was only two years ago that I decided to dig it out hot, to light my pipe on it, to revive my friendships, black fears and white joys. By the way - you know it well - my work is an indirect confession, a 'masked cry' that can nevertheless be uttered at close range. The five cards or standards that you have under your eyes, I have chiseled, engraved thinking of your subtle ear and your diabolical-magical bow stroke ... may our blindnesses from birth allow us to walk a little bit of eternity along the warm sun of free serenities and all possible secrets.

written on June 6, 1982 by Amadé and Iniga Ammann

Notice biographique

Ernest Jean NIEDERHAUSER, fils de Alfred Ernest Niederhauser et de Marie Suzanne, née Richter, est né le 18 octobre 1923.

Originaire de Neuchâtel, il a vécu toute sa vie dans cette ville, dans le même immeuble, chez ses parents, à la rue de la Côte 107. Originaire de Neuchâtel et Wyssachen BE.

Etudes primaires à Neuchâtel (Collège des Parcs) et secondaires (Collège latin).

A commencé ses études de piano à l'âge de 4 ans. His first teacher was Mr. Pierre Jacot in Neuchâtel. Poursuivit sa formation au Conservatoire de Genève avec le pianist Johny Aubert et Charles Chaix pour la composition.

Il se rendite ensuite à l'Ecole normale de musique à Paris, où il fut inter autres, l'élève du grand pianiste Alfred Cortot.

Revenant en Suisse, Jean NYDER (his name "de guerre") began a career as a professor and later as a composer. He liked chamber music and gave more than 300 concerts in duo with the violonist Paul Druey from Geneva.

Il publia également des recueils de poèmes.

Pour le surplus, consulter sa liste des œuvres.

He died in Neuchâtel on 12 February 1982.

Yann Richter