Gustav Holst: The Planets

Hello and welcome to Sticky Notes, the Classical Music Podcast. My name is Joshua Weilerstein, I'm a conductor, and I'm the Music Director of the Orchist Chanesi and the Chief Conductor of the All-Borg Symphony. This podcast is for anyone who loves classical music, works in the field, or is just getting ready to dive in to this amazing world of incredible music. Before we get started, I want to thank my new Patreon sponsors, Chen Yen, Avraham, Jeff, Angelina, Brian, and Jim, and all of my other Patreon sponsors for making Season 10 possible. If you'd like to support the show, please hit over to patreon.com/stickyknownspotcast. And if you are a fan of the show, please take a moment to give us a rating or review on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. It is greatly appreciated. I'm recording this a bit early because I will be on a whirlwind trip when this episode comes out, going first to Vancouver. I should have conducted one of my favorite orchestras, the Vancouver Symphony, in Chasticovich's 11th Symphony, a piece by the wonderful contemporary composer, Sami Musa, and Mozart's D minor Piano Concerto. And then I will be in Lille doing Frank's D minor Symphony, which we talked about a couple weeks ago, as well as Henri Duté Use Tut-en-Monde-Wente, which is an absolutely spectacular piece of the 20th century, and Camille Papin's Lanier-Kéa. That's a really exciting French program that's going to be televised, so I will be letting everybody know about that as well. For this week, I'm really excited to share with you an episode that has been requested for a long time, but I've just never gotten around to doing it. It is Gustave Holsts, the planets. Hope you enjoy it. [Music] Mr. Holst, wherever you are, I apologize in advance for what I'm about to say. Since for my research, I know you resented people saying this, but unfortunately, I think it's the case. Despite the fact that the composer Gustave Holst wrote a large catalog of music, much of it wonderful, he is essentially a one-hit wonder in the classical music world, a la Paco Bell, Duca, Mascaini, and others. His one-hit though is a big one, an epic seven-moving suite entitled The Planets. As I said, Holst was not happy about the popularity of the planets, eclipsing everything else he ever wrote, since he was a prolific composer and also someone who devoted himself fully to his subjects in all of his music. He considered other pieces he wrote better than the planets. And yet in the end, we hear very little of his other music. Though since the 1980s, some of it has been performed more, particularly in the UK. But as I said, the planets is truly a hit. The reason we know Holst's name today is one of the most frequently performed pieces in the whole Western classical canon. Holst took a novel approach to his depiction of the planets. They are not ordered by distance, but by musical cohesiveness. They don't depict the planets in an astronomical sense as much, but actually more in a very personal, astrological way. Somebody will get into as we start to discuss the piece. The orchestration is massive and yet subtle. It is easy to listen to and straightforward while also somehow intensely complex and varied. It is powerful, romantic in the big r sense of the word, thrilling, joyous, mysterious, terrifying, and in the end of course, cosmic, in its conception and its execution. This is one of those pieces that people love without necessarily giving it the full respect it deserves. And so today on the show we'll learn a little bit about Holst's life, what led him to write the planets, and why this piece grabs hold of us and doesn't let go throughout our journey through the stars. All this and more is coming right up on Sticky Nuts. Holst began his professional life as a freelance trombonist, but decided to devote himself fully to composition at the age of 29. Needing to support himself, he taught, transforming curriculums everywhere he went and instituting rigorous study of composers like Bach. He was a beloved teacher, which perhaps had something to do with the relentless curiosity with which he lived his life. An often told story but a good one is how Holst became interested in Hindu literature. He first encountered it in 1899 when he was 25 and fell in love. He decided to set texts from the Ramayana, one of the two important epics of Hinduism. He found some translations of the texts in the British Library in London, but thought of the translations were stilltid and unusable. So instead of giving up, Holst simply learned Sanskrit. He translated the texts himself and throughout his life he wrote several works that were inspired by Hinduism. He wrote choral hymns from the Rigveda, the oldest known Sanskrit text. This music included many influences from Indian music as well. He also wrote a cantada entitled The Cloud Messenger, a symphonic poem called Indra, and two operas based on Hinduism and Indian culture. What makes this more remarkable is that in an age of exoticism and sketchy at best understanding of Eastern cultures in the West, Holst by the standards of that age was devoted to really trying to understand these texts and the culture. Holst wasn't trying to mimic the sounds of India. He was attempting to capture a kind of essence. It was of course filtered through the context of the time. So one cant call this music authentic, but it is written from a place of admiration and deep thought, not condescension or easy exoticism. The moment that led to the creation of the planets was in this same line, a non-musical interest that developed into a major part of Holst's life, which of course then influenced his music. In 1913 while on vacation in Spain, Holst was introduced to astrology through the book, What is the Horoscope and How is it Cast? Written by Alan Leo, who believed in astrology not in a fortune telling sense, but in a sense the movements of the stars and planets shed light on human psychology. Leo ascribed psychological characteristics to the planets, something Holst found extremely interesting, and which became one of the main influences on Holst's budding epic work, which at that time was simply called "seven pieces for large orchestra". Holst said this about astrology, quote, "As a rule I only study things which suggest music to me. Recently I became acquainted with astrology and the character of each planet suggested something to me, and I have been studying astrology fairly closely." Three more tidbits about astrology and Holst that I find fascinating, all of which came from the excellent article about the planets, on classical notes not net written by Peter Guthman. The first is that for the rest of his life, Holst did astrological readings for his friends, mostly at parties. Again though this had less to do with predicting the future than using astrology for its psychological interest. The second is that Holst's interest in astrology remained with him after he finished the planets, but apparently it was nowhere near as powerful as it was while he was writing it. And the third and perhaps most tragic fact is that Alan Leo, the writer of the book that introduced Holst to astrology, and which led to the creation of this masterpiece, was convicted in 1917 under the British Witchcraft Act, just before his death. And now it's time to start the journey. Holst left out two planets in his astrological/musical survey, Earth, for reasons unexplained, and Pluto, which hadn't been discovered yet, and which actually turned out to be prophetic. He initially had marked Mercury as movement number one in his sketches, which makes sense, but he later changed his mind, and decided to arrange the movements purely for musical reasons. Therefore we start with Mars, move inwards to Venus and then Mercury, and then we jump out to Jupiter and go in order from there. The suite begins with Mars, the Bringer of War. It is perhaps the most famous movement in the piece, and directly inspired some of the most famous music ever written. [Music] [Music] Sorry, I couldn't resist. I adore John Williams and I don't think he's a plagiarist, like some accuse him of being, but it's undeniable that Williams was deeply influenced by Holst for his Imperial March in Star Wars, and I don't think he would deny it. Holst begins this piece with what was still then considered something quite radical, five four times, meaning five beats to a measure. This unevenness adds to the looming sense of dread and violence that this movement begins with. It's very hard to think of a more striking opening, one that completely takes you into its world for measure one. [Music] Interestingly, the portrayal of Mars and Alan Leo's book is not warlike. Leo's book does talk about fate and a certain forcefulness, but also of courage, independence, progress, etc. Essentially Mars is portrayed as powerful. Perhaps Holst was looking back to the Greco-Roman gods with his depiction of Mars as the bringer of war. One can certainly see the god Mars throwing some thunderbolts with this music. The other reason many thought and still think that Holst wrote this music this way is because of World War I. It's certainly possible and I wouldn't discount it, but Holst started working on this movement before World War I erupted, and we have to remember that despite the terrible anticipation that a war was going to begin, very few could have envisioned what was about to take place across Europe. The horrors in this movement are not based on battlefield accounts from the trenches. This is all about imagination. The five-four rhythm played with the wood of the bow by the strings is absolutely relentless, building to a terrifying and ear-splitting climax. And I'll talk about how Holst writes that for the strings in my Patreon exclusive mini episode this week. [Music] One thing to mention about this movement is its tempo. Holst simply marks a "legro" or "fast". The recording I'm using for the show today from a live performance with Eugene Ormondi in the Philadelphia Orchestra takes this movement at a pretty fast pace, actually very similar to the pace of Holst's own recording. But some conductors broaden things out and make this movement much more imposing. It's two different visions of the war machine. As this first climax dies away, we have the first unusual and innovative orchestration choice from Holst. A tenor tuba, much higher than the regular tuba, playing the second big theme in the movement. This is answered by military fanfares in the trumpets and soon we are back to full force playing again. This first section of the movement doesn't let up for a second. [Music] [Music] Completely flattened, Holst now halves the tempo by changing the meter from 5'4", meaning that there are 5 quarter notes in the measure to 5'2", meaning that there are 5 half notes in the measure. The material is much the same, but now instead of driving forward, it is snake-like, writhing in the depths of the orchestra waiting to strike. All the while, listen to the snare drum playing that terrifying, ostinato repeated rhythm, but in fragments as if it is a terribly present memory. [Music] This leads to truly one of the most powerful and dramatic climaxes in the history of western classical music. I'm sure you would agree that there are performances that stick in your mind, ones that had a moment or two in them that you know you will never forget. Despite the fact that I really enjoy the planets, I don't really consider it to be a particularly profound piece of music. So when I attended a concert at the Aspen Music Festival with the great American conductor, David Robertson conducting, I expected to enjoy it a lot since Robertson is such a great conductor, but I didn't expect much more than that. As the Mars movement progressed, I started feeling this kind of tension creeping through my body. Robertson was deliberately holding back, I could tell, but I didn't understand why. Isn't this the movement in the piece to let loose with? Well, I just didn't understand what Robertson's plan was. At this moment you are about to hear, it was like Robertson in the orchestra were plugged into a wall socket, and they unleashed a sound I will never forget, and they changed my impression of this piece in that moment from a fun suite of seven movements to something that actually had something really important to say. It was a master class in pacing and it remains one of the great performances I've ever heard. Here's that moment in the "Middy" music continues until an almighty scream for the orchestra. This drive in music continues until an almighty scream from the orchestra, which includes the entrance of the organ, another unusual orchestration choice, signals that this movement is coming to an end. One more rush of 16th notes later, and the death star begins to tear apart this music with a long slowing down that almost sounds like the phrase "the gears of war" in musical terms. Thus ends the first movement of this suite. It always leaves the audience unsettled, breathless, and wondering what will come next. [Music] Hulsd goes for the greatest possible contrast with his second movement, Venus, the Bringer of Peace. Hulsd daughter Imogen said that Venus "has to try and bring the right answer to Mars." Many of the loudest instruments in the orchestra are signless in this movement, as Hulsd's unison textures in Mars give way to luminous solos in Venus. first in the solo horn, which is then followed by a serene series of oscillating chords. According to Alan Leo, Venus was "the most fortunate star under which to be born" and Holst does everything in his power to prove that, creating a sense of peace just as fast as he gave us the impression of war in Mars. [Music] [Music] A second section begins with another gorgeous solo, this time for the solo violin, in F# major, one of the brightest of all keys. The tempo is more flowing now, and the music not only gives off a feeling of peace, but of great contentment. The solo violin is joined by the rest of the violins, an agently passionate version of its theme, accompanied by softly pulsing woodwinds. [Music] [Music] This movement is episodic in that its form is not in any typical classical era form, like sonata form or rondo form. A third theme now emerges led by the solo oboe. It is supremely big-r romantic, but it is always answered by slightly more urgent music that seems to be trying to make this theme fly into the sky. And yet it remains stubbornly grounded, though beautiful. Is there ambiguity and complexity in between this peacefulness? I'm not sure, but when one is reminded that this movement was also written during World War 1, there is certainly an element of wishing to make this happen, rather than it being reality. [Music] [Music] The rest of the movement alternates between these two themes, including one moment of beauty that could almost seem overly sentimental, except for the perfection with which it is written. I'll go through this moment on my Patreon exclusive mini-episode this week, and what makes it so brilliant in terms of orchestration, but holst manages to transport us with this moment, and feeling like we are somehow floating through both astronomical and astrological space. I always find this movement a bit funny from an astronomical sense, considering the furnace-like temperatures and poisonous air on Venus. But holst has this flying safely above the beautiful looking clouds of the planet. And I have no interest in astrology personally, but holst makes me want to with this music. [Music] And as we float away into the metaphorical or perhaps literal clouds, Mars becomes a distant memory. Holst has set up two poles, and he's done it in a slightly traditional way, with a fast first movement and a slow second movement. But he's done more than that. He's set up the idea that the planets in their astrological sense carry with them the greatest of contrasts. He leaves us wondering what else the planets will reveal to us. The third movement is entitled Mercury, the Winged Messenger, and it acts as a perfect scarred so movement in the structure of the piece so far. In fact, there is a good argument to be made that the first four movements of the planets really do create a symphonic structure, with a fast first movement, slow second movement, fast third movement scarred so, and a grand finale. Mercury is the shortest movement in the whole suite, and surprisingly enough, it was written last. Alan Leo described Mercury as "colorless and adaptable", which doesn't give a composer a huge amount to go off of, which is perhaps why Holst once again reached back into Greco-Roman mythology to describe the flicked-footed god of trade, thieves, and travelers. So much of this movement is vague, flitting by, with not a single moment of feeling grounded. To create this instability, Holst does two things. One is to create a constant contrast between rhythms in two and rhythms in three. The other is that Holst experiments with betonality here. We have some fragments in B-flat major and some in E-major, two very distant keys. Our modern ears don't perceive of this so easily in performance, but listen to these two chords played one after another. First the B-flat, then E-major. That isn't your typical chord progression. So as you're listening, try to perceive not of when we are in one key or another, but when we switch. That's the idea here, creating instability and a flicked-footed rush of energy and vague excitement. [Music] The only real theme in this movement emerges in the next passage, and it is where Holst really plays with that two against three idea. This theme, first played by the solo violin and passed all around the orchestra, is a bit like a folk song, which will connect it in a beautiful way to the next movement, Jupiter. All the while, the accompaniment underneath the theme is stubbornly in two, allowing the theme to dance around it. This is charming music, but it is also ineffable, indefinable, colorless, and adaptable. [Music] Funnily enough, that second theme essentially acted as the trio section or the middle section of this scared so, as Holst after a brief pause returns us to the quick silver music of the first section, repeating it, almost exactly, though with some exciting variations. As you're sitting down to listen to the planets, you don't expect to hear a movement in perfect classical form, but in this movement, it's what Holst gives us, a slice of perfection amidst this cosmic astrological journey. [Music] Jupiter, in Allen Leo astrological terms, represents a "abundance of life and vitality". Structurally this movement is very simple, too fast and joyful outer sections, sandwiching a slower and more noble middle section. This is definitely the second most famous of the movements, and in some circles it might be the most famous, though we'll get to that when we get to the middle section. The movement begins with bubbling energy, but gone is the quicksilver vagueness of mercury. Instead the power of the joy expressed here is irresistible, and we get swept up in the cascade of 16th notes from the violins and the power of the full brass inviting us to the celebration. [Music] This movement, perhaps because some of the motives sound like music used in Star Trek, sounds the most astronomical to me of the movement so far. One can kind of imagine big Jupiter bouncing through the cosmic skies. Now of course, none of this has anything to do with the real life Jupiter, a gas giant with a never ending storm three times the size of Earth, and can you tell I was an astronomy nearer to the kid? But remember, all of this has to do with mythical, metaphorical, and astrological visions of these planets. So how is it both astrological and astronomical? Well, I guess it has something to do with my own childhood, and the excitement I felt looking at images of Jupiter. There's something so alive about the colors and the energy that seems to be constantly bustling on that planet. This movement, despite themes in its outer section that aren't exactly the most profound in the musical universe, gives me that feeling of awe and excitement all over again. [Music] The outer sections of the movement are episodic, with one theme following the other in a kaleidoscopic way. The second big theme of this outer section is a powerful and heavy dance in three that has always given me the impression of a huge wheel turning in the stars. Once again, this theme seems to be inspired by British folk music, but if it is, holst never reveal the source. I have a feeling that it isn't anything specific, just the impression of a folk song that we feel as holst soon begins a thrilling acceleration of tempo that leads to raucous excitement. [Music] [Music] Holst then brings the dynamic down, but not the excitement, as he makes his transition to the middle section. And this middle section is maybe, at least in the UK, the most famous moment of this entire piece. It's not hard to see why when you listen to this gorgeous tune, but after you hear it, I'll tell you why it actually is a bit controversial, for Holst and his family at least. [Music] [Music] This hymn, often played in an extremely legubrious and slow manner, was adapted by Holst in 1921 to fit with the text by Cecil Spring Rice, called The City of God or The Two Fatherlands. The poem is a heavily nationalist and religious hymn to both the UK and God, though Rice heavily edited the poem from its original 1912 text in 1918, removing some of the references to violence that seemed inappropriate after the devastation of World War I. This is the version that Holst set, and it has become one of the most famous hymns in the UK, voted as the UK's sixth favorite hymn in 2019. But here's the thing, even though Holst did set this poem to this music, he did it at a time that his daughter said, Holst was completely exhausted and overworked, and so he did it extremely quickly. He came to hate this setting, and the fact that the hymn became so famous outside of the context of the planets. The poem has also been criticized for its connections to Christian nationalism, though I can't find any evidence that Holst had a problem with the text specifically. The reason I'm mentioning this other than the fact that I think it's interesting is that the fame of the hymn has led this moment in the planets to be performed often in an extremely sentimental manner, which Holst also apparently really disliked. Check out how Holst himself conducted it on his recording. I never know exactly what to think of recordings made by composers and whether to trust them fully, but I think you can hear in this version that Holst imbues none of the sentimentality and, frankly, cheesiness of some of the other performances. Holst's performances dignified, slightly restrained, but no less beautiful. The outer section of the movement returns with brilliant orchestration touches everywhere you look. Somehow this piece sounds like everything else and like nothing else, simultaneously. It has a combination of French orchestral colors, British melodies, and late romanticism that is absolutely infectious. The coda of the movement is truly brilliant. Holst slows the tempo down to the tempo of the middle section and has the low brass play the big tune, but the accompaniment to it is no longer solemn and noble. It is full of arpeggios from the strings, winds, and harps, and creates a luminous texture that brings the entire movement together, until a new energy drives us to the end. Forgive me for saying this, but I can't help think of the imagery of Star Trek or Star Wars at the end of this movement. There's a reason why the composers of those themes were so influenced by the planets. It absolutely works. We now move to Saturn, and the final three movements which are notably more mysterious and less straightforward than the first four movements. This movement is called Saturn the Bringer of Old Age. Saturn was Holst's favorite movement, and though when I was a teenager playing this movement I found it boring now I think it is my favorite movement as well. The opening seems to be depicting a very slowly ticking clock, or perhaps it's very slow grieving, while the basses play a mysterious and lamenting melody from the depths of the orchestra. Once again, Holst finds a way to create the atmosphere he's looking for instantly. Within ten seconds, Jupiter is forgotten. The opening section seems to go on. endlessly. Is it life receding away? Is it simply old age itself waiting for the inevitable end? Huls' daughter imagines that these endlessly alternating chords are a memory for Huls' of bells tolling before surface at the Durham Cathedral. The ringers of the bells were two very old men in black gowns. A second section now begins slightly faster than before, underpinned by a gentle processional in the cellos and basses. The trombones long a symbol of death and music like this since the writing of the Mozart Requiem begin a theme based on the opening double bass idea but more developed and more harmonized. We are in some kind of funeral procession now, slowly trading along. And now Huls will begin one of the most terrifying moments in the piece. A moment that I certainly feel is as terrifying if not more than anything in the Mars movement. It is a hugely long crescendo based on the oscillating chords. I'll play you the whole passage now. Is this a depiction of the finality of the inescapability of the inevitability of death? I don't know for sure but it's unsettling and especially overpowering when heard in a concert hall. [Music] As the buildup continues, Huls twice seems to struggle against it but it is futile. This fast and defiant music will quickly run out of steam. We are powerless to stop Saturn as it's slowly approaches us. [Music] And then a remarkable thing happens. Huls changes the key and a kind of acceptance descends in the orchestra. The harp's play music reminiscent of the Venus movement and all of the threat in the slow moving terror of the first section is suddenly behind us. [Music] And then as the movement begins to fade away, it's as if we are floating ourselves towards Saturn, rather than trying to escape. It is one of the most beautiful depictions of the acceptance of death I've ever heard in music and to me it is one of the really profound moments in this suite. [Music] [Music] The movement ends in a flood of beautiful orchestration. Led by two gently rolling harps, the strings play the opening bass theme, transported into calm acceptance and light. [Music] Saturn is the longest movement in the suite and for many audience members a slight sense of fatigue sits in here. I find that the Saturn movement when played well is actually quite an intense and almost uncomfortable experience. So little happens for so long and then when things do happen it is the darkest and most passionate music we've heard in the entire piece. Huls to perhaps recognizing this follows Saturn with his second shortest movement entitled Uranus, the Magician. For Leo, Uranus reflected eccentricity and of course magic. The movement is a series of musical jokes starting with a portentious and slightly terrifying opening which is immediately transformed into a bouncy dance in the bassoons that recalls du cause sorcerer's apprentice. [Music] The entire movement is extremely playful with quick transitions between harmonies and a sense of lightness that we haven't heard since the Mercury movement. There is even a kind of manti python esque irreverence here. It's such a relief after the previous movement and it's simply a whole lot of fun for the orchestra to play. [Music] [Music] A march proceeds for the next couple of minutes of the movement until it breaks into a rather rockest version of it featuring almost the entire orchestra. There is one important instrument missing though and that is the organ which rather than adding to the bouncy joy of this movement instead instigates a total collapse. The bottom drops out of the music and suddenly we arrive in a slow tempo and music of supreme mystery. It feels like suddenly we are on the outer reaches of the solar system. [Music] (upbeat music) [Music] The timpani in bassoon's try to bring us back to the jaunty march, but this time the opening music puts a stop to it, and a terrifying scream emerges from the orchestra. I'm not exactly sure what holst meant here, but it is a shocking change of character for this music, and it gives us a feeling of massive tension and uncertainty. [Music] The movement ends in this mysterious mood with an ambiguous chord in the strings, as if this magic trick has gone terribly wrong. This movement is very eccentric, which perhaps was what holst was after, and it leaves a strange feeling as we head into the final movement, Neptune. [Music] The final movement is entitled Neptune the Mystic, and it is surely the most unusual movement in the entire piece. It is one of the longer movements in the suite, but never rises beyond an extremely soft dynamic. It is full of dissonance, but not in a kind of harsh way like in some of the other movements. Instead, this movement gives us a sense of vast distance, of mystery, and of the mysticism the title of this movement refers to. None of what you are hearing seems to be real. [Music] There isn't much of a theme to speak of in this movement, and in the second section, holst takes away even a hint of melodic music, creating pure orchestral color. Again, the focus of this piece is astrological rather than astronomical, but here I can't help think holst is embracing the double-sided mystery of this planet. Astrologically mystical, and so astronomically distant from us. The trombones hold a dissonant chord while the harps and strings play diffuse and extremely soft arpeggios. [Music] Reading this movement was a huge risk for holst to take. This is not a short piece anywhere between 45 to 55 minutes depending on the tempi taken throughout, and holst has chosen to end of the piece with a slow and mysterious and soft movement. Holst stubbornly stays in this mystical mood for the entire movement. In fact, the orchestra is told they must remain as soft as possible throughout the 9-minute long movement, and yet the audience's attention is more than held. [Music] And holst will save his greatest trick for last. The cellos and then the bass oboe introduce what seems like it could be a melody, and then for the first time in the piece, we hear voices. On offstage female chorus, unseen by the audience, seems to be coming to us from another dimension entirely. It is one of the most remarkable moments of the entire repertoire, especially if you aren't expecting it. [Music] Interestingly, this seems to inspire the orchestra to the first real theme of this movement. We played first by the clarinet, and then the first violins. The chorus now takes up the theme, but again with no text, and it's only a fragment of the theme. There is a dialogue here between choir and orchestra, but it is fragmented, and as if it is separated by a veil. All the same, the music progressively becomes less dissonant, and more gentle as the chorus continues to sing. [Music] And in the final minutes of the piece, the choir takes on the opening bars of that melodic fragment, and they fade away slowly, very slowly. In fact, holst instructs the stage crew to close the door between the stage and the choir slowly, as the choir repeats the fragment seemingly endlessly. The conductor, Sir Adrian Bullt, one of the early champions of the piece said, "If it is possible for a piece of music never to finish, this is what happens here." And, "This tuneless, expressionless, shapeless succession of cloudy harmonies, suggesting as it does an infinite vision of timeless eternity, makes us wonder if we still hear the chorus or only hold them in our memory, swinging backward and forward for all time." [Music] [Music] The planets is an experience like no other. It's music that has inspired countless films, and is one of those rare pieces that many non-classical listeners will sort of vaguely recognize, even if they don't know it is music from, "Holst's Suite." This cultural connection has resulted in the piece not seeming quite as forward thinking and innovative as it was. It was not universally loved at its premiere either, with some reviews calling the piece "noisy and pretentious" and "a great disappointment." Even today, it is beloved by audiences but not thought of by most orchestral musicians and conductors as a truly serious piece, a designation usually reserved for the Austro-Derman repertoire. Like many pieces by English composers, such as Elgar, and by the way American composers, this piece says a reputation mostly as a "crowd fleezer." but a really thoughtful, really well prepared, really good. deeply felt performance of this piece can be a revelation. A revelation of Holst's ingenuity, an interesting dive in astrological history, and a reminder of the incomprehensible distances and sizes of our neighboring planets. One of my favorite websites to visit from time to time is called ScaleOfUniverse.com. It shows you in a way that we can almost understand the scale of our universe. I imagine Holst would have loved this website, and I encourage you in the next time you hear the planets to check out a bit of Alan Leo's astrology, just to get an idea of it not to necessarily embrace it, and to check out that website. It will make you feel like a kid again, perhaps the greatest achievement of this popular, but in my opinion, still underrated. Masterpiece of Gustav Holst. [Music] Thanks so much for listening to Sticking Notes today. We'll have some more exciting stuff for you in a couple of weeks, so don't miss our next episode. If you like what you heard today, please leave a rating or review on Apple podcasts or Spotify, and really helps the show gain more visibility. If you'd like to get in touch, please send an email to Sticking Notes podcast at gmail.com, and if you'd like to support the podcast monetarily, just head over to patreon.com/Sticking Notes podcast. Thanks, and I'll talk to you again after a while. [Music]