St. Martin's Chamber Choir

Program notes - "Enlightenment A Cappella"

But finding such unaccompanied choral works has been, for me, one of those great passions that possesses a person in his or her life. As I comb through music libraries, peruse music catalogues, pick through bins of discarded music at second-hand music shops in distant cities and countries, examine the occasional box of moldering treasures that is given to me by persons who find such among the effects of chorally-inclined relatives who have passed on, part of my brain is looking for things that would fit into upcoming concerts. But another part of my brain is also always on the lookout for 18th century a cappella works to add to my growing collection of these rarities (and, some might add, oddities).

Hence, doing a concert of such works will certainly come up every few years or so, when I’ve found enough of these works to make for an interesting concert (by the way, for every piece included tonight, there are probably four more in my files that I’ve rejected as not worthy of our discerning audiences!). The first concert entitled "Enlightenment A Cappella" was eight years ago, in 1996, when St. Martin’s was a very young ensemble indeed. It contained a smattering of works from many European countries. Tonight’s concert, by contrast, focuses on Germany. I see this concert as one characterized more by depth, whereas the first one could be said as having had more breadth.

I suspect the next concert entitled "Enlightenment A Cappella" will not take another eight years to appear, as I already have one almost formed in my brain for 18th century Italy! Still, I promise to wait at least one season, not to bore too many of you with this esoteric fascination of mine!

Timothy J. Krueger
October 2004

Program Notes

Jauchzet dem Herrn (excerpt) Gottfried August Homilius (1714-1785)

While a law student at Leipzig University (1738-41), Gottfried 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.

The German Lutheran motet of the 18^th century fell into two general categories: Spruchmotetten (Text-motets) and Choralmotetten (Chorale-motets). The former took a short, pithy portion of scripture (Kernspruch) and set it freely in a lightly imitative style. The latter were based on a familiar Lutheran chorale-tune, treating it rather like a "Theme and Variations." Jauchzet dem Herrn is an example of the former, a Text-motet, set in this case for double choir. This dramatic, brief opening movement sets the choirs against each other in starkly antiphonal writing, suggesting to me the arrangement of the choirs as you see tonight for dramatic effect.

Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott (excerpt) Johann Friedrich Doles (1715-1797)

It is to be presumed that Doles 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 Freberg, Doles later succeeded his old mentor as Kantor at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig in 1755. 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.

The two excerpts of works at the beginning of this concert are intended to demonstrate the two types of motets prevalent in the Lutheran church of Bach’s day, this one being of the latter variety, the Chorale-motet. The chorale, "A mighty fortress is our God," is here set in a phrase-by-phrase manner, the structure of which should be readily apparent upon first hearing to anyone who is familiar with the chorale itself.

Custodi me, Domine Johann Hugo von Wilderer (c.1670-1724)

Leaving the Protestant north, we move to the Catholic bastion of the Rhine River valley and the South. Von Wilderer, a Bavarian by birth, was Kappellmeister to the Prince-Electors of the Palatinate in Düsseldorf, Heidelberg, and Mannheim. Although mainly known during his lifetime for his operas (most of which are now lost), he wrote a small number of sacred works, including this fine motet, very much in a Palestrinian style (known as the stile antico [antique style] at the time), and a Missa brevis in G minor, part of which survives only because J. S. Bach wrote out a copy of the Kyrie and Gloria for himself. The remainder of it is presumed lost. Several musicologists have pointed out some similarities between von Wilderer’s now-forgotten mass-fragment and the great B minor Mass of Bach. That Bach thought enough of the mass to spend the time copying it out demonstrates a tacit approval of von Wilderer’s music. (Note: if anyone would care to donate the thousand dollars necessary to hire an orchestra, I would consider it an honor to bring von Wilderer’s Missa brevis to Denver audiences!)

Ecce quomodo moritur justus Georg von Reutter (1708-1772)

Moving yet further south, to Vienna, we encounter the musical establishment of the Austrian Hapsburgs. Son of the Kappellmeister of St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, Reutter rose to the same position himself upon the death of his father, and also was court composer to Empress Maria Theresa (Antonio Salieri’s predecessor in this post). His fame has mainly been negative, as he presided over a great decline in the court musical establishment. That draconian budget cuts imposed by Maria Theresa caused this decline is not disputed; but he is seen as having done little to fight the cuts. His reputation was not helped by the fact that one of the choirboys at St. Stephen’s during his tenure was none other than F. J. Haydn, who later lamented the fact that, although living for many years under Reutter’s care, he received no more than two composition lessons from him. Still, if contemporary accounts of musical life are any gauge, Reutter was extremely admired during his lifetime, and was described in one source as "incontestably the greatest composer to sing the praise of God."

This brief responsory for Holy Week (one of the choral responsories for the office of Tenebrae) shows little textural creativity, but much harmonic subtlety. The dynamics you will hear in the refrain (R:) may sound a little unusual, but are authentically Reutter’s.

Der Geist hilft unsrer Schwachheit auf Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

It is one of those strange facts of history that the greatest composer of the age was virtually unappreciated in his own lifetime, and it took nearly a century before his true genius was rediscovered and celebrated (thanks in part to Felix Mendelssohn). That Bach breathed new life into the decaying form of the 17^th-century motet and created works of timeless depth, passion, and beauty goes without saying. What is sometimes unappreciated is that he further endowed this form with a continuing prominence in the Lutheran Church, with German composers from Mendelssohn, to Brahms, to Distler, and many more even today, adding to the genre with undiminished enthusiasm.

Der Geist hilft is the second of Bach’s six great motets, and his most concise. It is a hybrid of the two forms, Text-motet and Chorale-motet, in that it initially appears to be the former, setting a text from Romans 8; yet it ends with a chorale as if it were one of the latter. There is little thematic similarity in the musical motives; and no amount of analysis on my part has produced the conclusion that the three foregoing sections are in any way based on the concluding chorale. Yet one is left with the unmistakable impression that they all fit together, and that this might be because of some enigmatic, perhaps never forthrightly-stated, over-arching theme.

Befiehl du deine Wege (excerpts) Johann Christoph Altnickol (1719-1759)

Another Leipzig University student (in Theology, 1745-48) who studied privately with J. S. Bach, 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 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 looked after Bach’s developmentally-disabled son Gottfried Heinrich. "Befiehl du deine Wege," is a chorale-motet, the chorale being known to English speakers as "O sacred head now wounded." I have excerpted two of the twelve movements here (#9 and #1, respectively), the first having the chorale-melody in the tenor, and the next in the soprano.

Qui Lazarum resuscitasti Jan Dismas Zelenka (1679-1745)

Saxony being the birthplace of Protestantism, it is ironic that an 18^th-century elector, Augustus I., converted back to Catholicism in order to make good a claim to the Polish throne. Hence, the competing ecclesiastical forces in Dresden, the capital, of the well-established Lutheran heirarchy (which Augustus didn’t dare interfere with), and a newly emerging Catholic court establishment. We have seen Homilius in the former capacity as organist of the three principal Lutheran churches; now we seen Zelenka, Czech by birth, as part of the latter.

Zelenka, who had a cordial personal relationship with Bach, never achieved his goal of being appointed Kappellmeister of the Saxon court, and suffered many disappointments due to lack of official recognition. But he produced a long list of both instrumental and sacred compositions, among which is the following responsory. It begins in the afore-mentioned stile antico, giving a nod to Palestrina; but frequent tempo changes, constant switching between polyphonic and homophonic textures, and the overtly rococo "sighing" figures of the refrain (R:), lend the piece a quirky, but not unattractive, sense of stylistic schizophrenia. Lest these harsh words cause the listener to think that I dislike this piece, let me quickly allay this by saying it is probably my favorite of the evening. Indeed, Zelenka’s reputation has increased over the last few decades, and an increasing number of performances of his compositions puts him among the claimants to the position of "best late-Baroque composer other than Bach, Vivaldi, and Handel."

Ich freue mich im Herrn Gottfried August Homilius (1714-1785)

Although this work supposedly stands alone as a very brief motet, the presence of a tiny snippet of the chorale tune Nun danket alle Gott (Now thank we all our God) in the tenor part near the end of the piece makes me suspect it is actually the first movement of a larger chorale-motet, the rest of which is now lost, or was perhaps never completed. It could also be the first movement of a German Magnificat, although it is not the usually accepted Lutheran translation. Its gently undulating, almost pastoral 6/8-time feel, stands in strong contrast to the other work presented tonight by Homilius, the very first of the concert, with antiphonal choirs. It demonstrates, I feel, a versatility in this unfortunately neglected composer, whose large output warrants many more performances than he unfortunately receives.

Machet die Tore weit Carl Heinrich Graun(1703-1759)

If Bach was underappreciated during his lifetime, Graun achieved a monumental fame that was not fated to last. The chief composer of the great school of composers who flocked around the Prussian king, Frederick II ("the Great")– including J. S. Bach’s son C. P. E. Bach – Carl Heinrich 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 was the preferred work for any state occasion in Prussia; and the Passion-cantata Der Tod Jesu ("The Death of Jesus") was performed in the Berlin Cathedral every year on Good Friday for nearly 100 years. The motet heard tonight demonstrates why he held the high positions he did, at least in terms of solid compositional craftsmanship. While not having the brilliance of J. S. Bach, there is nonetheless a good deal to make one sit up and listen.

© 2004 Timothy J. Krueger