Ture Rangström

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Ture Rangström (30 November 1884 – 11 May 1947) belonged to a new generation of Swedish composers who in the first decade of the 20th century introduced modernism to their compositions. In addition to composing Rangström was also a musical critic and conductor.

Rangström was born in Stockholm, where initially he studied music. He later travelled to Germany, where he studied further in Berlin and Munich. His compositions were chiefly for voice and piano. From 1922 to 1925, he was principal conductor of the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra. He founded the Swedish Society of Composers in 1924, and he was employed to promote the works of the Royal Swedish Opera from 1930 to 1936.

Much of his early works took the form of symphonic poems, including "Dityramb", "Ett midsommarstycke" ("A midsummer piece") and "En höstsång" ("An autumn song"). Following the success of these poems, Rangström began work on his symphonies of which there are four. The first, produced in 1914, is dedicated to the memory of Strindberg - "August Strindberg in memoriam"; the second, from 1919, is entitled "Mitt land" ("My country"); the third from 1929, "Sång under stjärnorna" ("Song under the stars") (1919); and the fourth from 1936, "Invocatio". He composed three operas, entitled "Kronbruden" ("The Crown Bride"), based on a play by Strindberg, which was first performed in 1915, "Medeltida" ("Medieval"), published in 1921, and "Gilgamesj", written during the last years of his life. The orchestration of "Gilgamesj" was completed by the composer John Fernström, and it was premièred in 1952.

Rangström died in Stockholm. He was grandfather of a playwright, also named Ture Rangström (born in 1944), and uncle of author Lars Gyllensten.

Translations of King Erik's Songs: from a BIS recording with baritone Walton Gronroos and pianist Ralf Gothoni.

1. A Song About When I Made Merry with Welam Welamsson at Upsala Castle and Archbishop Lars and Doctor Bengt Were Waiting Outside

       Drink up, Welam Welamsson,
       The snake is captive and the joy is great;
       In chains he is cast and waits for the judgement day
               in the cage where he lives.
       Drink up, Welam Welamsson,
       Thank God we have the Sture safely in the cage.

       Drink up, Welam Welamsson,
       Mr. Lars' preachings we'll give to the devil and also
               Mr. Bengt's glasses,
       Let our lasses be called here from the town.
       Drink up, Welam Welamsson,
       Pour out more drink to quench the maids.

       Drink up, Welam Welamsson,
       Let us pass the time with drinking and excess.
       So let's drink ourselves purple;
       Let's drink ourselves to death in good red liquor.
       Drink up, Welam Welamsson,
       And flourish and flower, to Hell we will go.

2. A Song about Me and Herkules the Fool

       Pluck the guitar
       Strum the string,
       Who's the fool of us two?

       I'm the fool,
       You're the king,
       Pluck the guitar, sing!

       Vibrate the string,
       It is spring,
       Happy in the meadow the flower stands.

       Over the heather
       Stands a pine-tree,
       Highest in the copse of all.

       High on his horse rode a king
       Up to the feast,
       Jumped off his young steed.

       Cheerfully took,
       You can hear the gigue,
       A kiss from the maids of the land.

       Hear the string's hard rattle,
       Hear the descant
       Whine sharply.

       Pluck the guitar,
       Wildly in a ring
       The pine needles whirl!

       Tired and broken
       Is the guitar,
       Now is the king the fool.

       Hear the guitar's
       Broken voice,
       It is the fool's solace.

3. A Song to Karin when She Had Danced

       I would bind a wreath of the finest flowers
       In the hair of my beloved,
       I would bind a wreath of fond memories
       For you for your old age.

       With my hands I would wind it
       Round she whom I love,
       The wreath would still decorate your grey hair
       When I am here no more.

       So fair and youthful in the dance
       Is my beloved, and not happy,
       There is a thorn in this wreath
       And poison in the flowers' leaves.

       I see a drop of blood which flows
       From the wreath about my loved one's hair,
       There is distress in all I give,
       My gifts cause pain, my wreath gives wounds.

4. A Song to Karin from Prison

       Measure me not by measure, but soak me with tears,
       A madman I have become, a madman among madmen.

       Fair was my crown and splendid my kingdom
       I have been the equal of kings and of emperors.

       In ruins lies my kingdom, in pieces is my crown,
       In the darkness of prison, I would absolve my crime.

       I was faithfully served by friends and relations,
       Now the blood of family stains my hands.

       Faithfully my people fought for my honor
       And the harvest of good faith was hunger.

       The daughters of my people walked so fair on the square,
       I led them up to be taken in the castle.

       At last I sought for you for the final solace,
       Spring was to be laid waste that autumn might live.

       Lo, for me bitter tears have been wept,
       Measure me not by measure, forgive me what I've broken.

5. King Erik's Last Song

       What good are tears, what help are cries,
       King John and God, they stick together,
       King John gave me irons
       And God his grace with this hope:
       Your prison is your own body
       And if you would leave your prison
       You can break your neck.