Touring the Solar System with Holst's The Planets
VI. Uranus, the Magician

Where to Point Your Ears

Listen first for the brass, because they open the movement with a short motif of just four notes, a bit like a magician clearing his throat before the trick. After that, follow the whole orchestra as it takes the motif and turns it into a dance that is deliberately clumsy. Keep one ear open for the organ near the end, because it has a single huge sweeping slide that you can't mistake for anything else. If you follow just those three things, the brass, the dance and the organ, you won't get lost.

Why a Magician?

My starting point for the whole suite was astrology, the idea that each planet has a character of its own, and when I came to Uranus I heard a magician. I don't mean a solemn wizard, but a magician whose tricks are slightly out of his control, which is why this music is playful rather than frightening. The clearest influence on it is Dukas's The Sorcerer's Apprentice, a piece in which magic escapes from the person who started it, and I'm glad to say so. So the title is a kind of promise: something will be conjured, and then it will get away from him.

Choosing a Shape for the Spell

Choosing the form was an adventure, because this isn't a sonata or a rondo, and I didn't want to pretend it was. It's a little story instead, marked Allegro and mainly in 6/4, with occasional bars of 9/4 that arrive like an unexpected extra step on a staircase. You can hear four sections: the brass motif, the clumsy dance, the enormous climax and the quiet ending. I'll take them one at a time in the next paragraphs, so you'll know exactly where you are.

Section 1: The Magician Clears His Throat

The movement begins at the Allegro tempo in 6/4, and the four-note motif in the brass is the very first thing you hear. It sounds mysterious and a little pompous, as if someone is announcing that something remarkable is about to happen. Notice that nothing has gone wrong yet, and the mood is one of curious anticipation. Remember those four notes, because they come back to cause trouble.

Section 2: The Dance Trips Over Its Own Feet

Now the dance begins, and it's meant to be awkward, with heavy steps and a certain lumbering charm. The tempo stays at Allegro, but the music feels as if it's speeding up, because the dance grows more and more out of hand with every turn. Listen for the occasional 9/4 interjections, which stretch the rhythm just when you think you've found your footing. The mood shifts from amused to unsettled, and you can tell the magician is no longer quite in charge.

Section 3: The Spell Goes Off

The dance builds to the loudest point of the whole movement, a climax marked with four f's, which is as loud as I can ask an orchestra to play. At the very peak, the organ sweeps upward in one great glissando, and that's the moment I most want you to hear. After all the stomping and swirling, the sound is wide and overwhelming, and the mood is pure spectacle. It feels as if the trick has worked far better than anyone intended.

Section 4: The Smoke Clears

Then everything drops away at once, to a pianissimo Lento that is the slowest and softest music in the movement. After the noise, the sudden hush is almost startling, and the mood turns from chaos to something strange and mysterious. The music ends quietly, like a magician who has vanished and left only a faint wisp behind. That final contrast is the part of the story I'm proudest of.

Your Turn to Watch the Trick

Now it's your turn to hear VI. Uranus, the Magician for yourself, so press play and let the music carry you along. While it plays, you might think back to the four-note motif, the clumsy dance, the organ's great sweep and the hush at the end. You don't need to know anything about classical music to enjoy it, only a willingness to be surprised. I hope you find the journey as thrilling as I did when I wrote it.