In 1956 the Danish king, Frederik IX, paid a state visit to the former Danish colony of Iceland. The union between Denmark and Iceland had been finally dissolved only twelve year previously; Iceland was proclaimed a republic in 1944. The musical king was to be greeted with music - with a musical declaration of independence, as it were. Had the visit taken place a generation earlier, an Icelandic male voice choir would probably have appeared to pay tribute to their foreign king with patriotic songs. A generation or two before that, the king would probably have been greeted with a panegyric. In either case the greeting would have illustrated the fact that words and music have always had a symbiotic relationship in Iceland.
However, when Frederik IX came to Iceland a great deal had changed. The formerly poor, isolated and exploited partner had turned into an independent and sovereign welfare state, despite the fact that it had American military forces on its territory. To this welfare belonged a rather recently formed symphony orchestra and a handful of composers who composed music for it now and then, even though there was hardly any Icelandic tradition in this area. A new orchestral composition was commissioned for the royal visit and Jón Nordal, a thirty-year-old composer who had been abroad and had studied modern music, was chosen. It was perhaps not merely a coincidence that Jón Nordal was the son of the famous philologist Sigurður Nordal, who at that time was Icelandic ambassador to Denmark charged with the task of securing the return of the Old Icelandic manuscripts to their homeland. Jón Nordal composed a "sinfonietta seriosa" with the Icelandic title Bjarkamál. In this composition he appears as perhaps the first Icelandic composer to use the symphony orchestra idiomatically - to think instrumentally and orchestrally from the beginning. Jón Nordal's musical language in Bjarkamál is a genuinely orchestral language coloured by the modernism of Hindemith and Bartók.
Earlier Jón Nordal had studied with Jón Thórarinsson, who had been in the United States in the 1940s studying with Paul Hindemith. The music of the young Jón Nordal - for example in his concertos for piano and orchestra - clearly demonstrated the influence of Hindemith. His continual development goes from this relative insouciance towards a very personal and strongly emotional form of expression. In the early fifties he studied in Switzerland for a few years with Willy Burkhard and later he proceeded to familiarize himself with central European, post-war modernism. He travelled to Paris, Rome and Darmstadt, and it was Darmstadt which was to be most important for him. Here he met Stockhausen, Luigi Nono, Bruno Maderna, György Ligeti, Bo Nilsson and Theodor W. Adorno (who polemicised against Hindemith). He felt out of place in the hothouse atmosphere of Darmstadt but the music of Anton Webern - the basis of post-war avant-gardism - made a strong impression on him. At the beginning of the 1960s Jón Nordal composed an orchestral piece with the characteristic title Brotaspil -games with pieces, fragments - which springs from the techniques of serial composition and has a very fragmented exterior. It would be natural to regard Brotaspil as a kind of reaction to Webern and Darmstadt, but Jón Nordal himself has indicated a source of inspiration closer to home - contemporary Icelandic painting which at that time was cultivating very geometric abstractions. This in itself is interesting as it points to a liberation of Icelandic music from the power of words.
Brotaspil seems to have been the starting point for the Jón Nordal who later - in the sixties and seventies - concentrated on composing relatively few and relatively short orchestral works, which from the point of view of style represented a synthesis of the extremely fragmentary style of Brotaspil with his older free-tonal "Bartókian" style. Among these are works such as Adagio (1966) for flute, harp, piano and strings, Stiklur (Stepping-stones), Concerto Lirico, Epitaffio, Canto Elegiaco for cello and chamber orchestra, Langnætti (Winter Nights), Lei sla (Ecstasy), and Tvísöngur for violin, viola and orchestra. These compositions, produced with great effort, are rare pearls in contemporary Icelandic music, which is otherwise dominated by music for everyday purposes.
Jón Nordal is without doubt international in his musical language. His orchestral language is international and his themes are not in the least nationalistic. Certainly the title Tvísöngur refers to a famous and much-discussed phenomenom in Icelandic folk music, but one looks in vain for out-and-out "Icelandicisms". Jón Nordal himself also admits that he feels antipathy towards the extremely "Icelandic" style found for example in the work of Jón Leifs. All the same, the Icelandic cultural tradition plays an important role in his music. Through his researches into the sagas and into Icelandic literature of later ages, Jón Nordal's father laid the basis for a modern view of Icelandic culture and its identity. Tradition-bearers from all over the country came to present their ballads to him; in this way Jón Nordal became familiar with the popular, traditional culture of his country.
If one listens to Adagio for flute, harp, piano and strings (recorded in connection with the Nordic Music Days in Stockholm in 1968), or the orchestral piece Leidsla (Ecstasy), one encounters music which is serious, introvert and well thought-out. There are some striking characteristics: the extremely disciplined expression, the deliberate lack of brilliance, and the quiet objectivity with which the strong emotions that simmer under the surface are depicted. A similar narrative technique - if one can speak of narrative technique - is also to be found in the great Icelandic family sagas.
This parallel is perhaps strained and artificial. But if one wants to find a background to Jón Nordal's music outside of continental musical currents, it is obvious to look for it in Icelandic literature and nature. He is himself rather reticent about his music: "For me composing music is a rather serious affair," is all he will say.
In Jón Nordal's work from the last few decades we undoubtedly find some of the artistically weightiest formulations in modern Nordic music. That this is a widespread opinion can be seen from the fact that orchestras in the Nordic counties commission works from him. It is. on the other hand, regrettable that his music, with few exceptions, is not available on record.
Jón Nordal plays an important role in the musical life of his country in yet another respect: since 1959 he has been director of the Academy of Music in Reykjavík. The Academy of Music is a vital element in musical life in Iceland, and has been largely responsible for the country's amazing number of fine musicians and composers, even if they usually go abroad to finish their education. It is perhaps a sign of how progressive the Icelandic musical community is that when a society for modern music, Musica Nova, was formed in 1959, the new director of the Conservatory was to be found among its active members. Such interplay between modern music and the leaders of educational institutions is by no means usual.