It snowed in Seattle yesterday, which means we had to cancel the OSSCS concert that was to take place tonight, the fourth of our season and the third in our series examining the work of Lili Boulanger.
Which is a bummer! I built this program around Boulanger’s setting of the 129th psalm. Stravinsky’s SymphonyÂ ofÂ Psalms was a natural pairing, then I got to thinking about other psalms, going back as far as I could and up to the present day. Here’s what we were supposed to have performed tonight:
SCHÃœTZ Alleluja! Lobet den Herrn!
HILDEGAARD KaritasÂ habundat
SHAW andÂ theÂ swallow
STRAVINSKY Symphony of Psalms
DVORAK Å½alm 149
BOULANGER Psaume CXXIX
WHITE Psalm 46
It’s a wildly eclectic program spanning 900 years of music, performed in five different languages, but I’m telling you â€“ it works!
Or so went my hypothesis anyway. I had prepared my pre-concert lecture to explain how it works, pointing out the many cross-pollinations that bounce around in this program. Since I couldn’t give it in person, here you have it:
Same Text, Different Worlds
There are two pieces on the program that share the same text: Heinrich SchÃ¼tz’s Alleluia (1619) and the last movement of Stravinsky’s SymphonyÂ ofÂ Psalms (1930), the text being that of the 150th psalm.
Here’s how SchÃ¼tz sets the first lines, “Alleluja! Lobet den Herrn” (“Hallelujah! Praise the lord”)
And here’s Stravinsky’s setting of the same words, this time in Latin:
It’s immediately clear a) that we’re in two totally different sound worlds and b) that Igor Stravinsky has an awfully dour way with the word “Hallelujah”.
In fact, Stravinsky’s setting of this whole text is quite peculiar, and a case could be made that it’s hardly a musical setting of the text at all, and more a symphony to which words were appended.
Listen, for example, to the way SchÃ¼tz and Stravinsky set the baldly evocative words, “Praise him with timbrel and dance, praise him with strings and organ”:
I’m not saying that a composer has to be literal with their word painting, but this psalm invites it brazenly, and it’s a bold choice to ignore it outright.
The irony here is that Stravinsky considered the music in this movement to be the single most literal musical depiction he ever composed, particularly the following passage, which depicts Elijah riding a fiery chariot through the sky. The horns and triplets represent the stomping of hooves:
Apparently Stravinsky was even embarrassed that he had written something so literal, which may well be, but it’s worth pointing out that this text contains not a single mention of a horse, a chariot, or the prophet Elijah.
Sing we and chant it
Chant plays a major role in this program, most obviously with the work of the 12th century mystic, Hildegaard von Bingen:
There was a major revival of interest in chant in Parisian musical circles around the time that Lili Boulanger was receiving her education (you’ll hear it a ton in FaurÃ©, d’Indy, Franck, and DuruflÃ©). Listen to the first vocal line of her setting of the 129th psalm with the Hildegaard in mind:
Even a composer like Dvorak, whose setting of the 149th psalm has a bright, festive, dance-like atmosphere, uses a bit of chantish writing to invoke the solemnity of his material:
There are two contemporary works on the program, one by Caroline Shaw, the other by yours truly. (One of these composers has won the Pulitzer Prize in Music; it’s hardly worth quibbling over which it was.)
We’re composers of the same generation who mainly write in the sphere of tonal music, and what’s more, we both use some of the same techniques, one of which is writing in parallel harmonies.
Listen to this complete performance of andÂ theÂ swallow and I’ll explain what I mean:
Right from the start, you’re getting parallel harmonies â€“ a G-flat major chord moves up to a B-flat minor chord, same voicing, all the parts moving in parallel motion. Another way of putting it is that she’s writing melodies, but instead of using single notes, she uses stacked chords.
This is something that I do a lot, but whereas Shaw’s writing (in this piece) tends towards modality, mine tends towards chromaticism, since I most commonly maintain the chord qualities with each melodic move.
[I am so sorry for that last paragraph. This is the kind of jargon that I would entirely eschew in a pre-concert lecture, but I would have extra tools to explain myself, like a piano and my insouciant charm.]
A simpler version of this is to say that, had I written the opening of andÂ theÂ swallow, it might have had a B-flat major chord instead of a B-flat minor chord, which would sound crunchier and less mellifluous.
Check out, for example, the dissonances in the opening bars of my piece:
Lots more could be said about this program, and it’s a shame that I won’t get a chance to present all these pieces in one evening, because I really believe they have all sorts of interesting resonances with each other.
But the wheels have been churning, and I think I’ve figured out how to scrap this program for parts, leading to many new programs, perhaps even more diverting and ingenious than this one, so stay tuned!