The Epic of Gilgamesh (complete oratorio)

"Martinu is a famously variable composer, but The Epic of Gilgamesh represents him at the peak of his ability. For his oratorio based on ancient Babylonian texts (in Czech translation!) he pulls all the stops out, with colourful control of the orchestra and dramatic story-telling. Zdenek Kosler's fine recording was first issued in 1990 by Marco Polo, but now makes an irresistible bargain on its sister label."
- Andre Clarke The Independent 13 April 2002

"The story of the hero Gilgamesh's confrontation with the creature Enkidu is presented by Martinu with great resourcefulness, using both spoken narration and solo singers, and alternating moments of great lyrical intimacy with raw, primeval grandeur"
- Andrew Clements The Guardian 5 April 2002

"The only competition for this generally fine performance comes from Supraphon, a disc that may be very hard to find and that in any event is not dramatically superior to this one. Martinu's The Epic of Gilgamesh deserves to be better known: it's a masterpiece of his last years (composed in 1955), and anyone familiar with the exotic, haunted sound world of his Sixth Symphony will find more of the same here. Outstanding moments are many and varied: the taming of Enkidu by a courtesan, the battle between Gilgamesh and Enkidu, and perhaps most of all the raising of Enkidu's spirit and Gilgamesh's questioning about what his dead friend saw in the underworld.

Zdenek Kosler ...gives a faithful and colorful account of this hypnotic score. The soloists all perform well...and the chorus does a very good job. Like the story itself, Martinu's austere setting exudes a primal, timeless quality, and he makes particularly imaginative use of piano, harp, muted trumpets, and wordless chorus to create an unforgettable atmosphere. Honestly recorded, and with complete texts and translations included, this reissue makes an irresistible bargain."
- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com, March 26, 2002

The Epic of Gilgamesh, an oratorio for soprano, tenor, baritone and bass soloists, choir and orchestra, was written at Nice and completed in 1955. It is dedicated to Maja Sacher, the wife of Paul Sacher to whom he had been indebted as a patron and then as a generous benefactor during his final years of illness. Martinù made use at first of the English translation of the ancient Babylonian epic by Campbell Thompson, a version that has seriously dated since its original publication in 1928 and 1930. A Czech translation of the English followed. The poem had its source in ancient Sumeria, to be expanded later in the Akkadian language of Babylonia. The hero, Gilgamesh, although the subject of legendary exploits, actually ruled in Babylonia about 2700 B.C. In the poem he is accompanied by Enkidu, a wild man tamed by a courtesan and his constant friend and companion in his adventures. Enkidu rejects the advances of Ishtar, the goddess of love, and when they kill the bull she sends to punish them, the gods take revenge by killing him. Gilgamesh, in grief, seeks a means of restoring his friend to life, and finally learns from his shade about the world of the dead.

The oratorio is in three parts, the first based on Tablets 1 and 2 of the twelve tablets preserved from the library of King Ashurbanipal of Assyria (669-630 B.C.), the second on Tablets 7, 8 and 10 and the third on Tablet 12. The remarkable setting of the ancient poem by Martinù captures the joy and grief of the ancient world, where death was sudden and inexorable. It is scored with considerable delicacy and subtlety to evoke the past in an eclectic use of modes and telling contrasts of the sung and spoken word that add considerably to the underlying drama.

The first part of the oratorio, Gilgamesh, opens mysteriously (1), the chorus leading to the entry of the bass soloist praising Gilgamesh, the matter taken up by the chorus again (2). The bass soloist describes the creation of Enkidu (3) intoning without accompaniment, except for the addition at one point of a single clarinet note. The chorus goes on to describe Enkidu's way of life in the desert (4) and the tenor, speaking, tells how a hunter had met him and been afraid. His father advises him to use a courtesan to lure Enkidu to the city (5) and the chorus launches into a lively account of how Enkidu approaches the well where the hunter and courtesan await him (6). The tenor soloist then urges the girl to reveal her beauty to the wild man (7) and to an orchestral accompaniment of increasing excitement the chorus tells how she seduces him. The bass soloist, assisted by the chorus, resumes the narrative (8), explaining that the cattle now turned away from Enkidu, who had lost his primitive innocence. The woman addresses him (9), praising his god-like beauty in rhapsodic terms and leading him to Erech and to Gilgamesh and to the delights of the city, now with the women's voices of the chorus, sustaining a wordless accompaniment. The tenor then declaims Enkidu's willing response (10), and the chorus goes on to describe Enkidu's approach and the great contest of Enkidu and Gilgamesh.

The second part, The Death of Enkidu, opens with muted trumpets in music of spare and mysterious texture (11). The women's voices of the chorus sing of the power of death. The bass soloist, speaking, then tells of Enkidu's premonition of death (12), the tenor, as Enkidu, singing of his ominous dream. He continues to describe his meeting with the Queen of the Underworld (13), the chorus repeating its warning of the power of death. Then, without accompaniment, the chorus tells of Enkidu lying on his death-bed (14). The orchestra adds its own ominous comment (15) and the baritone soloist, as Gilgamesh, grieves at the approaching death of his friend. The chorus, again unaccompanied, describes further Enkidu's death-bed (16), followed by the lament of Gilgamesh. The chorus warns him that there is no remedy for death (17) and the orchestra adds its own hymn of mourning. The baritone soloist, Gilgamesh, now tells of his wandering in the desert in sadness (18), seeking death himself. The chorus urges him to desist (19), since death is allotted by fate.

The third part, Invocation, starts with a hushed orchestral introduction (20), after which the soprano soloist asks Gilgamesh why he is grieving (21). He replies, bemoaning the death of Enkidu (22). In speech, accompanied by wordless women's chorus, the sorrowing of Gilgamesh is described (23), framed by a wordless lament in which the soprano soloist joins. Now the chorus urges Enkidu to rise from the dead (24). Gilgamesh goes to the temple of Enlil and begs his intercession (25), but in vain. He beseeches the Moon God (26), but again in vain. Then he turns to Eia (27), and all join to beg that Enkidu may rise from the dead. This is urged even more strongly (28) and the spirit of Enkidu emerges from the earth. Questioned now, he tells what he has seen in the Land of the Dead (29), Enkidu's spirit represented by the bass soloist. The work ends in the mood of mysterious and archaic fatalism in which it has been largely set, Enkidu's final response echoing through the caverns of the Underworld.