Daniel Börtz: Nemesis divina

The music of Daniel Börtz finds its artistic doppelganger in the films of fellow countryman, Ingmar Bergman. As with Bergman, there is an extraordinary intuitive and modernistic approach to matters of structure and form. Similarly, Börtz also has engaged the metaphysical darkness found in many of Bergman’s films, responding with his own sonic philosophic meditations on the human condition. This shared aesthetic vision would inevitably lead the composer and auteur to collaborate, the result being Börtz’s first opera Bacchanterna (The Bacchae, 1991).

Daniel Börtz was born in Osby, southern Sweden in 1943. He began his musical studies learning violin with John Fernström and composition with Hilding Rosenberg. Upon being accepted to the Royal College of Music in Stockholm he continued composition studies with Karl-Birger Blomdahl (1962-65), Ingvar Lidholm (1965-68) and electronic music with Gottfried Michael Koenig (1967).
Börtz’s early works were heavily influenced by the “sonorism” and textural music of the Polish avant garde. During the ‘80s, he would embrace a linear style with a greater focus on melodic development and would later reexamine the possibilities of the symphonic form.

This new direction would lead to Börtz’s mature style and the composition of his masterworks, the operas Bacchanterna (1991), Marie Antoniette (1998), Svall (2005), Goya (2009), the oratorio And his Name was Orestes (2001-02) and the solo concertos for trumpet, violin, clarinet, piano and recorder.

For his composition Nemesis divina, the composer selected two texts from the writings of the 18th century botanist and physician, Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778): Respiratio diaetetica (The Dietetics of Respiration) 1772 and Nemesis divina (1758-1765), a lengthy meditation on theodicy, written for the moral instruction of Linnaeus ́ son.

While lasting a mere 14 minutes, every aspect of Nemesis divina exhibits Börtz’s mastery of structure and form, expressed with precision and passion. The setting of Linnaeus’ words are largely episodic, with the recorder functioning almost as if it were theatrical lighting, progressing from the dark hues of the tenor recorder, to the piercing brilliance of the sopranino. The piece begins with a slowly unfolding introduction, the words of the title, “Nemesis divina” broken into neutral syllables. The full choir enters triple fortissimo on the words “You have come to a world you do not know of...” This is followed by a densely scored passage, chromatically wriggling up the scale, finally erupting in a percussive setting of the words “Eyes are like a Camera obscura.” A brief passage for male voices and recorder brings us to the heart of Börtz’s piece - a glorious A Major chord on the word “God” fol- lowed by a mini-cadenza from the recorder, resembling one of Messiaen’s angelic birdsongs. The choir divides into eight parts, performing a rhythmically complex hocket-like additive process at the words “A child who is about to die...” The work closes with a reminiscence of the opening material, slowly unfolding chromatic lines, spiked with tritones, gradually taking shape as a sequence of three chords. The recorder chirrups its angel-bird song one last time, as Börtz concludes his musical/metaphysical mediation on the word “man” set to a diminished A Minor triad.

First performed by Michala Petri and the Swedish Radio Chamber Choir as part of the 2007 Carl von Linné Tercentennial celebration in Stockholm, Sweden.