Double Chorus Concert

Program Notes

by Peter Rutenberg Call and response has been an integral feature of the folk idiom since prehistoric times: virtually all societies have incorporated some form of this group activity in their seasonal, religious and life-cycle celebrations, military exercises, agricultural pastimes, water journeys, rote education and children's games. But folk arts have a way of evolving and elevating themselves into high art, and in the history of western music, this evolution expressed itself in the florid chants of the Jewish, Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox religions, all of which use a leader (a cantor or priest) and a congregation (the entire assembly, a choir, or a group of clergy) to perform religious rites. It was in the Roman Church that the musical descendants of call and response achieved their highest order during the Renaissance. The architecture of that Golden Age was partly responsible, both in its purest sense and in its musical application. The buildings themselves kept getting larger and more elaborate. Older churches were added onto with special chapels dedicated to various saints, or for the interment of honored church officials. New churches were constructed using the latest architectural advances. Eventually, more choir lofts and other types of galleries or platforms for music and pageantry were included. Composers not only increased the numbers of their performing forces, but exploited their venues by expanding the expressive and dramatic capabilities inherent in spatial sound - all with the intent of creating an ever-greater majesty in their service to God. One might say they "invented" what we now call stereo, quad and surround-sound. The twelve works represented on this concert span five centuries. The later works were all intended to be performed a cappella (or unaccompanied in the style of the chapel choir). The earlier works, on the other hand, might well have used voices in combination with instruments, but fare quite well with voices alone. Before discussing the repertoire, it behooves us to establish a verbal frame of reference for this genre in the form of a brief glossary. In actuality, the term call and response is inadequate to describe the musical vocabulary of antiphonal music as it has been practiced since the Renaissance. Even the term antiphonal does not technically encompass the gamut of possibilities. Essentially, it refers to two separate choirs that sing in call and response fashion without joining together. The dramatic possibilities here - be they in the form of an echo (with repetition of text) or dialogue (with advancement of text) - are increased but still limited. The true polychoral genre includes any number of voices, divided in any number of choirs, and combined in any variety of ways, including portions of one choir temporarily allied with portions of another. The result is shifring vocal colors with the same or different musical material, where the "dialogue" becomes a musical "argument" which, in turn, leads to full joining of all voices. Within the course of these echoes, dialogues and arguments, there may be thematic development of one sort or another, such as modulation to a different key, variation of the motif, or fragmentation of a melodic figure (longer phrases shortened to brief bursts of notes traded in a rapid-fire volley). Conversely, the work may be "through-composed" with each phrase of text receiving its own, distinct musical treatment, and little, if any, thematic development. Most of the permutations and combinations are in evidence this evening. The rumor of Orlando di Lasso's thrice being abducted for the beauty of his treble voice persists to this day, though it is unsubstantiated. He was born in Mons, in the province of Hainaut in what is now Belgium, had travelled the continent, and had worked for Ferrante Gonzaga in Mantua, Constantino Castrioto in Naples, and at St. John Lateran as maestro di cappella in Rome, by the time he was snapped up by the Court of Duke Albrecht V of Bavaria in 1556 - at the tender age of 24. Hired as a singer, he assumed musical control of the Ducal Chapel in 1563, where he continued to flourish for the remaining three decades of his life. One of the most prolific composers of all time, it is known that a substantial portion of his oeuvre was lost or destroyed: even so, there are over 70 Masses, an unprecedented 100 or more Magnificats, over 500 motets, and hundreds of madrigals, chansons, Lieder, and other works still extant! His facility in Latin, French, Italian, German, and some regional "low-brow" dialects as well, allowed him not only to banter creatively with his patrons, and with various publishers in correspondence, but to capture the flavor of the street in much of his secular music. His well-known Echo Song O Iá o che bon eccho (originally published in the Libra de villanelle, moresche, et altre canzoni in Paris in 1581) is a clever treatment of an original text in which the speaker "argues" with his echo, who responds that it will not comply with the speaker's wishes, but ironically can do nothing else! Benjamin Britten's A Hymn to the Virgin was wrirren so early in the composer's life that it is sometimes jokingly referred to as his Opus -1. But genius tends to evidence itself at an early age and so it is with this refreshing antiphonal work for a large choir and a distant, smaller choir- the former singing a 13th century English text, the larrer a Latin commentary in rhymed couplets. By the end, the Latin is joined to the English - not in the same way as English Glees make their bilingual puns - but rather, to reflect the merging of the holy spirit with the human soul, as in the final phrase, "Maid mild, mother es Effecta." If he had written nothing other than the massive Syntagma Musicum (1614-20), Michael Praetorius would have been worth his weight in gold. This three-volume encyclopedia documents the instruments and performance practices of the time and is not only one of the best, but one of a precious few such treatises available to the contemporary musician. That he was a prolific composer of quality church music is icing on a happy cake. Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming - Praetorius's familiar staple of the holiday repertoire - receives a loving polychoral treatment at the hands of contemporary Swedish composer Jan Sandström. The original motet supplies the first chorus with its four parts. Each of the intact but separate phrases is introduced in turn by the pervading soundscape of the second chorus, using an octet of voices that the composer directs to sing at all times with bocca chiusa ("closed mouth"). Within the translucent density of this texture, there are slowmoving melodic patterns traded among the parts, and harmonies that drift in and out of synchronicity with the model. The overall effect, described in sculptural terms, would be comparable to Michelangelo's David being draped in a shimmering veil and backlit with a slowly-rotating color wheel. These brief works not only demonstrate the vocabulary of the polychoral domain, but rather nicely set up the masterwork that closes the first half of the program - Frank Martin's profoundly moving and gorgeous Mass for double chorus. Martin was born in Geneva, Switzerland, the son of a Calvinist minister. Lauber and Dalcroze were his principal teachers, with early stylistic influences from Schoenberg and Debussy. Major works with chorus figure prominently among his repertoire, including the remarkable dramatic chamber oratorio, Le Vin Herbe from 1941 (the Tristan and Isolde story), In terra pax from 1944, and Golgotha from 1948. No doubt this interest was predicated on the composer's early exposure to Bach's Saint Matthew Passion, for the energy and reverence marking that work would surface again and again in the Swiss composer's creations. The Mass, written much earlier in 1922, came to light only in the 1960s, after the composer had come to terms with his ambivalence over religious music being performed in the concert hall. Its rich harmonies and sweeping melodies - coupled with some static textures redolent of its decade of composition - have been embraced by choirs and audiences alike since its release. The Mass is scored for cwo mixed choirs of four voices, but the texture is often expanded with further divisis at different points in the text. Moreover, the role assigned to one choir is often quite different from the other. The work's chromatic harmonies provide a dramatic tension that is further heightened by the use of extreme vocal ranges, encompassing nearly four octaves, from low D in the basses to high B in the sopranos. The Kyrie opens in the choir II alto with a pentatonic theme, similar to Vaughan Williams' beloved Mass in G Minor for double chorus, written just one year earlier. It is answered by the choir I altos, and then the sopranos, with each entrance higher by a fourth. The angelic quality of the undulating "treble" voices is punctuated by sharp rhythms in the men's chorus. Here a slow transformation begins, leading to all voices adopting this rhythm in a quick series of tonal shifts that introduce the more subdued mood of the Christe. This section focuses on the darker color of the three lower voices in each choir, as both sopranos are silent for almost 20 measures. Their re-entry signals the Christe's climactic moment which dissolves directly into the Kyrie II - a brief summary of the opening themes. The Gloria is introduced by a mounting fanfare, fairly exploding at in excelsis, then receding for the proclamation of earthly peace. The next bit of text (praise, bless, worship, glorify) is handled in a standard but nevertheless interesting way, but beginning with Domine Deus, Martin adopts a fascinating texture with choir II sustaining low harmonies in contrast to choir I's more melodic, leading stance. Octave entrances initiate the final portion of text, which swells at the first statement of in gloria Dei Patris, only to subside into a softer yet still energetic closing phrase. The firmly-grounded opening of the Credo yields rather soon to a soprano melody in choir I, accompanied by sustained chords in choir II, followed immediately by a splendid harmonic peak at Deum verum. The et incarnatus is customarily slow in tempo, but unusually brief, bringing us almost immediately to the angularity of the crucifixion and the mournful harmonies of the burial - kept spare by the use of choir I alone. Choir II is given the opening statement of the Et murrexit fugal subject, which, like the Kyrie, remains in the treble voices for the first several measures. The tenors join the rejoicing, while the basses follow with the et ascendit. Men's and women's choirs briefly argue the day of judgment, restating the resurrection theme, until the asymmetric dance of et in spiritum and broad choral hymn of confession, Confiteor, conclude the movement. It is a lovely moment when the Sanctus opens - not with the usual soaring of angels - but with the gentle clanging of bells in the cluster chords sung by the men. The sopranos then intone the heavenly song as the mood of exultation grows into a lilting proclamation of glory and the resounding hosannas. Like the Christe, the Benedictus is reserved for the lower voices with the melody in choir I and the harmony in choir II. Divided sopranos in each choir then echo the Benedictus theme in parallel thirds, as the inevitable crescendo back to Hosanna II brings the movement to an exhilarating close. With the Agnus Dei, the melody-harmony roles are once again assigned to choirs I and II respectively - this time the tune is in unison and octaves for the duration of the movement, while the harmony becomes darker, more complex, and more dissonant. The tension of the pleading prayer grows, with the lower choir slowly climbing its discordant but richlyhued ladder, reaching a sustained, unrelenting climax by the end of the second Agnus Dei. The third statement of Agnus Dei melts quietly back into the inexorable march - the gentle closing chords at last offering a sigh of dramatic relief at the lone statement of Dona nobis pacem - Grant us peace. Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina first appears as a chorister at Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome in his 12th year, taking the organist position at St. Agapito in his home town before the age of 20. With the election of Palestrina's Bishop as Pope Julius III, he returns to Rome as chapel master at the Cappella Guilia, also singing in the Sistine Chapel, and later assuming the recently-departed Lasso's post at St. John Lateran before returning to Maria Maggiore. Palestrina's long and productive career saw the publication of over 100 Masses, 35 Magnificats, hundreds of motets, the hymn cycle for the liturgical year, and some madrigals as well. In the overview of his style, it has been tempting to label him "conservative" - for he certainly knew and was well-practiced in all the ancient compositional methods. I find this conclusion unsubstantiated in his music though, for he is every bit as daring and unconventional as Lasso, as a systematic survey of each Mass setting's Agnus Dei would surely prove. His facility as a composer, coupled with his tremendous output, suggest rather a keen and unflagging sense of invention. His consummate skill allowed him to integrate the latest in worldly influences in an organic and wholesome way, elevating them to suitability for sacred service. The beautifully-rhymed terse rhythms of the Stabat Mater verses, scored for two four-voice choirs, surface in Palestrina's setting as a cyclic series of brief antiphonal exchanges between the choirs, each followed by an expansive, emotionally wrought cadential phrase, sung by the full complement of voices. The opening of the piece is unique in this period - three major chords based on a bass line descending by whole tones - and captures the sense of sinking pain that is at the heart of the Crucifixion scene's text, while foreshadowing the wonder of the Resurrection. Moreover, this irony suffuses the entire work, as a distinct preference for major harmonies - conveying the promise of redemption and the joy of life everlasting - underscores the text. An arduous audition process allowed Giovanni Gabrieli to succeed his uncle Andrea as organist at St. Mark's in Venice in 1585, where one of his first duties was to see to the publication of Andrea's last works, the Sacrae Symphoniae of 1587. Like his uncle, Giovanni had traveled to Munich and worked with Lasso, and in the grand tradition of music at St. Mark's, had continued to exploit the spatial possibilities of that immense building. His remarkable collection of compositions helped put the Renaissance on the fast track to the Baroque, and expanded the development of harmonic extravagance and idiomatic writing for organ and other instruments. The sense of sacred grandeur transferred easily to and elevated the dramatic capabilities of the madrigal, as exemplified by the charming Dormiva dolcemente for eight voices. The elegant text is nicely represented by the music, with the balanced duple meter giving way to triple time for a playful depiction of "the kiss." Judging from the number of battlesongs for voices, keyboards and groups of instruments, it is safe to assume that composers throughout the Renaissance delighted in the opportunity to portray the sounds of war in music. Adriano Banchieri was a Benedictine monk who spent most of his life at St. Michael's Monastery in Bosco, Italy. He is remembered for his theoretical treatises, especially on organ playing and realizing a "figured bass" (a method of representing harmonic progressions over a single line of notes), as well as for a collection of trio canzonettas, consort music, and some "program madrigals," such as the Contrapunto bestiale (the voices imitate animals such as a cuckoo, cat, dog, etc.) and this work for double chorus, La Battaglia. From the opening trumpet calls sounding the all'arme to the closing cry for victory, Banchieri crafts an intricate image of battle that almost sounds like fun! Franz Biehl's transcendent and voluptuous setting of the Ave Maria based on the theme of its interpolated chant Angelus Domini, has been made famous through Chanticleer's introduction of the work to American audiences. Scored for two choirs - the first with soprano, alto and tenor voices, the second for full mixed chorus - the motet consists of brief antiphonal exchanges and rich tuttis that build to an exquisite climax. A long-held dream to write a cycle of sacred choruses was realized when Havard University-based composer Randall Thompson combed the book of Isaiah, ultimately summarizing its conflict in The Peaceable Kingdom. He had seen Edward Hicks' painting of the same name in 1934 - then recently acquired by the Worcester Art Museum. Its inscription, from Isaiah, provided the inspirational spark, and after a thorough winnowing process, a sequence of eight evocative scenes became the basis for the work, completed the following year. It was commissioned by the League of Composers for the original performers - the Harvard Glee Club and Radcliffe Choral Society, G. Wallace Woodworth, Director- to whom it is dedicated. This program includes the final two movements from The Peaceable Kingdom. The brief seventh section introduces the concluding chorus - a glorious change of color and mood from the preceding six movements - as heaven, in the form of the "mountain of the Lord," rewards the righteous with "a song." With almost Victorian restraint, Thompson crafts a lengthy climax, where one hears simultaneously the echoes of Palestrina's majesty within the modern American idiom - a precise embodiment of the composer's most fundamental tenets. Canticle of Invocation, written for the 1983 American Choral Directors Association (ACDA) National Convention by California composer James Fritschel, uses a traditional Navajo text (in English translation) - with its particular brand of imagery and profound connection to nature - to paint a sound portrait of rich beauty. About this piece the composer writes, "For a number of years I have been attracted by the poetic elegance of the Indians of the Southwest and have set texts from several different tribes. Readers of Tony Hillerman will recognize the Navajo form of address used in this text, Talking God, as well as the idea of being surrounded and immersed by beauty. Musically, there was no effort made to 'sound Indian' but the notion of Talking God suggested the possibility of double choir." Swiss composer Carl Rütti grew up in Zug, studying piano and violin at a young age, then Gregorian chant, organ and choral singing at the monastery school of Engelberg. Along the way, he picked up trombone and an avid interest in jazz, and continued piano and organ studies at the Zürich Conservatoire, graduating in 1975 with a Solisten-Diploma in both instruments. His Missa Angelorum began life as a Missa brevis - including the Kyrie, Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei - commissioned in 1980 by the Freiburg Cathedral Choir. Following a performance by the BBC Singers in 1990, Cambridge Voices' director Ian Moore persuaded the composer to add a Gloria, and this latter group gave that premiere in 1991. It was because of this English connection that Rütti renamed the work Missa Angelorum - "englisch" means both "English" and "angelic" in German. The Gloria is scored for soprano and tenor soloists, one choir of four voices (SATB) and one of five (SATBB). This is vibrant, thrilling music that truly speaks for itself!

Archival Recording