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Program notes - "Enlightenment A Cappella" |
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A Note from the Artistic Director The stylistic transitions from era to era have always fascinated me. In the early 17th century, when European art moved from the Renaissance to the Baroque era, a stylistic divide emerged based on function -- sacred vs. secular, or the church vs. the stage. The older style of polyphonic voice-leading, usually a cappella and identified with Palestrina, was the sacred style; and a new "concertato" style, usually homophonic, with increased use of dissonance as a vehicle for word painting, built on new forms like ritornello, sonata, various national dances, etc., and accompanied by instruments, was the secular. This functional distinction, though dying, lasted into the next stylistic era, the Classical. Although there was an increasing acceptance of the secular style in church (witness the masses of Haydn and Mozart, and the Cantatas of Bach, with recitatives and arias that were indistinguishable from their operatic cousins), there remained a diminishing group of largely conservative composers who still composed sacred a cappella works in the old style (stile antico). This led to a sort of stylistic dualism -- almost a musical schizophrenia, if you will -- during the middle of the 18th century where the structure, texture, and scoring of a piece are redolent of the Renaissance, yet the harmonic vocabulary is distinctly Baroque and/or Classical. And this is some of my favorite music -- rare gems that, because they do not fit into one era or the other, were passed over by historians and choirmasters alike, either as old-fashioned, or, in some cases, paradoxically, as not sacred enough. Given my fascination with music of this description, this is the third concert in St. Martins’ history with this particular title – yet, perhaps surprisingly, there has been little duplication between the three concerts, so successful have been my musico-archeological searches. Plans are afoot to record this concert as our next CD, available in time for Christmas.
All this makes for music that is both emotionally deep and intellectually stimulating – a good way to describe St. Martin’s concerts in general, don’t you think? Program Notes The Roman Catholic South Italy Cantate Domino, Giuseppe Ottavio Pitoni (1657-1743) Ex altari tuo, Giuseppe Ottavio Pitoni Pitoni held many of Rome’s most distinguished sacred music positions, many of them simultaneously, and was highly respected during his lifetime. His output is evenly divided between the stile concertato (accompanied, Baroque-style works) and stile antico (old-style a cappella works fashioned on the counterpoint of Palestrina). I contrast here two of the latter, one lively and joyful and a little more “modern;” the other slow and anguished, a masterful example demonstrating his veneration for Palestrina. O salutaris hostia, Pasquale Pisari (c.1725-1778) Attention musicologists! Pisari represents one of those opportunities for researching a highly neglected master who has never been given his due. The major reason for this was that he was merely a singer in the Sistine Chapel, rather than holding a leadership position. He was thus only sporadically published, and he did not possess the influence or reputation to have his works performed more widely. And yet he received the kind of soaring praise that is usually reserved for much greater composers: The great polyphonic teacher Padre Martini (with whom the adolescent Mozart took composition lessons during his tours to Italy) called Pisari the “Palestrina of the 18th century.” And the great English musicologist Charles Burney, after hearing a mass by Pisari for 16 voices, “which was full of canons, fugues, and imitations,” went on to say, “I never saw a more learned or ingenious composition of the kind.” This simple setting of the great Eucharistic poem by St. Thomas Aquinas, for the trebles of the choir only, will provide a hint of these “learned and ingenious” traits. Salzburg & Bavaria Custodi me, Domine, Johann Hugo von Wilderer (c.1670-1724) This is the only piece which has made an appearance in all three “Enlightenment A Cappella” concerts. This is due to its compositional perfection, in my mind, and I am thrilled finally to be recording it. It basically juxtaposes two musical themes, the first a rising legato motive heard at the beginning, the other a more detached and disjunct motive first heard at the words “et ab hominibus.” The two work together as subject and counter-subject for a good part of the piece, and it ends with one of the most beautiful extended cadences in all of choral literature, worthy of Brahms, in my opinion. Von Wilderer wrote almost exclusively operas and sacred works in the stile concertato. This is his sole example of an a cappella work in the stile antico. His one Mass, scored for chorus and strings, was copied out by J. S. Bach, which demonstrates the master’s admiration for the piece, and musicologists have noted similarities between von Wilderer’s mass and Bach’s B minor Mass. Tenebrae factae sunt, Carl Heinrich Biber (1681-1749) Little is known of Carl Heinrich Biber in contrast to his father Heinrich Ignaz Biber, who was the 17th century’s star violinist. The younger Biber succeeded Biechteler (the next composer in this concert) as Hofkappelmeister to the Salzburg court, and was thus Leopold Mozart’s superior. Tenebrae factae sunt, a work for Good Friday, shows great drama in its abrupt shifts in dynamics and texture, and catches the spirit of this liturgical feast to perfection. Victimae Paschali Laudes, Sigismund Biechteler (c.1670-1744) Biechteler rose swiftly in his career from singing teacher at Salzburg Cathedral to be the Hofkappelmeister to the Archbishop from 1690-1712. The vast majority of his works were written during this time. The historical record goes almost blank after 1712, however, when he was replaced by C. H. Biber (heard above). The fact that he was ennobled in 1724 (given the title of Baron von Greiffenthal) suggests that he was not replaced due to dissatisfaction on the part of the Archbishop, but the reason remains a mystery. A modest number of works – all for the church – survive, and none shows a great deal of originality. However, the antiphonal quality of this particular work, sung by two choirs in rapid alternation, demonstrates an ability to create satisfying textures and creative effects, especially within the reverberant acoustic of Salzburg Cathedral. The Protestant North God is our Refuge, K. 20, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) “God is our refuge” counts as Mozart’s first choral work, written when he was nine years old and on tour with his father in London (hence it’s inclusion here rather than in the Salzburg portion of this concert). It is certainly not long enough to be considered an ‘anthem’ in the Anglican sense (it is often called a ‘motet,’ which in England was quite different from the German motets to be heard later in this concert), but it already demonstrates a learning of polyphony that foreshadows greater things to come. My God, My God, Look Upon Me, John Blow (1648-1708) Second only to Purcell as the pre-eminent figure in English music of the late 17th century, Blow’s music deserves far more attention than it receives. Among his many court appointments, he was composer for the Chapel Royal, organist of Westminster Abbey, and master of the choristers of St. Paul’s Cathedral. The vast majority of his output consists of the stile concertato mentioned above, although this distinction was less pronounced in England than on the continent; but “My God, my God” is an example of the stricter “full anthem” (often a cappella) that was coming more into favor as the 18th century began. Evening Service in A, Samuel Arnold (1740-1802) The overriding impression one gains by reading an account of Arnold’s life is that of a man of boundless energy and industry. The composer of countless operas, ballets, pasticcios, oratorios, pantomimes and theatre songs, he also managed two London theatres (including Covent Garden), and added to that in 1793 the duties of organist of Westminster Abbey. In the latter capacity, he not only performed and composed music, but also edited a four-volume collection of sacred music by other English composers entitled Cathedral Music. His Evening Service in A was written as a complement to the Morning Service in A by William Boyce. The composer of light theatrical music is readily heard in the playfulness of this setting, with effective (if obvious) word-painting at such places as “He hath put down the mighty from their seat.” Berlin and Dresden Machet die Tore weit, Carl Heinrich Graun (1703-1759) Fürwahr, er trug unsre Krankheit, Carl Heinrich Graun Whereas J. S. Bach was underappreciated during his lifetime, Carl Heinrich Graun achieved a monumental fame that was not fated to last. The chief composer of the group of composers who surrounded the Prussian king, Frederick II (“the Great”)– including C. P. E. Bach,
Quantz, Benda, Agricola, and Fasch, to name a few – Graun was in charge of every aspect of Berlin’s musical establishment. He is comparable in my mind to Sir Edward Elgar in the following way: What Elgar did to embody the English passion for “pomp and circumstance” in the Victorian era, Graun did for the Berlin court of Frederick the Great. For over a century after his death, Graun was known throughout Germany by way of two works; a
Te Deum written to celebrate one of Frederick’s military victories early in the Seven Years’ War, which was performed for many a state occasion in Prussia; and the Passion-cantata
Der Tod Jesu (“The Death of Jesus”), which was performed in the Berlin Cathedral every year on Good Friday for nearly 100 years. The works heard in this concert are echoes of those two,
Machet die Tore Weit, carrying the ringing nobleness of the Te Deum, and
Fürwahr, having the anguished intensity of Der Tod Jesu. While not endowed with the brilliance of a J. S. Bach, there is nonetheless a good deal here to make one sit up and listen, and clearly demonstrates why he held the high positions he did. Ich freue mich im Herrn, Gottfried August Homilius (1714-1785) While a law student at Leipzig University (1738-41), Homilius studied composition privately with J. S. Bach. Much like Handel, who also studied law to appease parental expectations, Homilius “always allowed music to be his main task.” Subsequently his major post was as organist of the three principal Lutheran churches of Dresden, Saxony, of which the still-famous Frauenkirche was the largest. Ich freue mich im Herrn is a single-movement motet that is technically a Choralmotette (see the notes under Graun) due to the appearance (though extremely brief) of the first two phrases of the German Lutheran chorale Nun danket alle Gott (“Now thank we all our God”) in the tenor line. It is so brief, however, that it makes me wonder whether there are not subsequent movements that have been lost, which would have completed the presentation of the chorale. Leipzig Tristis est anima mea, Johann Kuhnau (1660-1722) Kuhnau is principally remembered today for his keyboard music, although he is also as frequently mentioned as J. S. Bach’s immediate predecessor as Kantor and organist of the Thomaskirche in Leipzig (from 1684 until his death in 1722). He is one of those persons who was highly admired during his lifetime, but who has seen his popularity decline immediately after his death. This Latin motet for Holy Week is one of the very few examples of the stile antico in Kuhnau’s output, and demonstrate that he was a master of it. Befiehl du deine Wege, Johann Christoph Altnickol (1719-1759) Another Leipzig University student who studied privately with J. S. Bach (see Homilius, above), Altnickol also sang bass in the Thomaskirche choir in order to help pay his tuition. In 1748 Bach testified in response to inquiries that Altnickol was a pupil of whom he “need not be ashamed” (hardly a ringing endorsement, it would seem), which won him the position of organist at St Wenceslaus, Naumburg. The closeness of mentor and pupil is demonstrated, however, in numerous ways: Altnickol subsequently married one of Bach’s daughters, Elisabeth; it was allegedly Altnickol to whom the blind Bach dictated his final composition; and, after Bach’s death, Altnickol and his wife cared for Bach’s developmentally-disabled son Gottfried Heinrich.
Befiehl du deine Wege is a chorale-motet (see Graun), the chorale being known to English speakers as “O sacred head now wounded.” The chorale melody is prominently displayed in the soprano part in large note values (i.e., in augmentation), while the lower three parts sing a faster, more figurative accompaniment. It is to be presumed that Doles, Altnickol, and Homilius knew each other well, as Doles was a student at Leipzig University during the same time (1739-1742), and was also a private student of J. S. Bach. After holding the post of Kantor in Freiberg, Doles later succeeded his old mentor as Kantor at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig in 1755, where he remained until his retirement in 1789. With Kuhnau taking up the position in 1684, and Doles laying it down in 1789, we have over a century of music in Leipzig represented in this concert. It is also interesting to note that, with Doles in Leipzig, and Homilius in Dresden, these two Bach students dominated the musical life of Saxony (and therefore most of Germany) for the half-century following Bach’s death. © 2009 Timothy J. Krueger |