Program Notes - La Crosse Chamber Chorale

Program Notes
Introduction
When Bob Dylan makes an album of old songs, people listen. When he’s
interviewed by Robert Love, the former editor of Rolling Stone, now
editor of AARP the Magazine, people read. I’m sure that many of us
saw the condensed interview in the February/March issue of that very
popular (“reaches 35 million readers!”) magazine. Some of us may have
gone online to read the complete version. The program notes for this
concert begin and end with a quote from our great American 73-yearold singer/songwriter (and former Minnesota neighbor):
With all these songs you have to study the lyrics. You have to look at every one of them and be able to identify with them in a meaningful way.
Dylan is talking about the ten “beloved” songs in his new album,
Shadows of the Night, but his words are easily applied to the seventeen
“songs” in this concert. (The five “movements” of the Duruflé mass
can count as individual songs, can’t they?) Dylan is saying something
that has been said many times in these notes: “Read the lyrics. Look
at them before the concert (maybe even online!). Look at them during
the concert – and at the intermission.” For by doing so you will “be able
to identify with them in a meaningful way.” I think that last sentence
provides a mini-definition of an enjoyable concert.
“As Vesta was” by Thomas Weelkes
As Vesta was from Latmos hill descending,
She spied a maiden Queen the same ascending,
Attended on by all the shepherds’ swain,
To whom Diana’s darlings came running down amain.
First two by two, then three by three together,
Leaving their goddess all alone, hasted thither;
And mingling with the shepherds of her train,
With mirthful tunes her presence entertain.
Then sang the shepherds and the nymphs of Diana:
Long live fair Oriana, long live fair Oriana.
As it took me, English Major that I am, three readings to arrive at what
is going on in this madrigal, I hope the following explanation will “get”
you there more quickly. Thomas Weelkes’s 1601 song is a tribute to the
monarch who had been reigning for 43 years. This “maiden Queen” is
Elizabeth I. In the same year, Weelkes’s friend and fellow court-musician,
Thomas Morley, published a book of 25 madrigals entitled The Triumphs
of Oriana. This Latin name had become a poetical way of referring
to the Queen. (There are, after all, not many words that rhyme with
“Elizabeth.”)
What’s going on in the madrigal is this: Queen Elizabeth, accompanied
by her courtiers (called “swain” here), is out in the country – the classical
country of Spenser’s Fairy Queen, which is England under sunny Greek
skies. The goddess Diana and her “darlings,” her nymphs, are also there.
But when Diana’s girls see Elizabeth’s boys, they forsake the goddess and
run to join the Queen. Out of this classical mixer arises a song of praise
to “Oriana,” to Elizabeth. It’s not “The Judgment of Paris,” but Queen
Elizabeth does win the beauty contest.
It may take more than one listening to perceive how Weelkes’s music
does what Bach’s often does: it “paints” or describes the words musically.
It’s both simple and complicated. E.g., the notes go down for the word
“descending” and up for the word “ascending.” With “two by two”
there are two voices in the choir, with “three by three” there are three,
and then when they all join together, there are six parts. For the other
examples of “word-painting,” I can write simply: “etc.”
“Weep, O Mine Eyes” by John Bennet
Weep, O mine eyes and cease not,
Alas, these your springtides methinks increase not.
O when begin you to swell so high
that I may drown me in you?
John Bennet also wrote madrigals in praise of “Fair Oriana.” The La Crosse
Chamber Chorale sang one, his “All Creatures Now,” in April 2002.
Everyone was writing for Queen Elizabeth in 1600, including, of course,
Shakespeare!
Elizabethans often found it hard to express things directly. They used
what they called “conceits,” embedded puzzles or riddles which you had
to figure out. Bennet’s lyrics look simple – someone, no doubt a lover,
wants to “cry their heart out.” But does the lover really want to drown –
to die – or is he or she simply “in love with love” and all its emotions? To
borrow a well-known phrase that Shakespeare wrote just about at the
same time, “Methinks the lover doth protest too much.” What do you
think?
“Pregúntale a ese mar” by Inocente Carreño, words by Juan Bexoes
Pregúntale a ese mar donde solía llorar mi corazón,
si por su arena con dulce silbo de veloz sirena
cruzó la virgen que me viera
un día contar los granos de la arena mía. Ask the sea
where my heart cried,
if on its sand
with the sweet whistle of the quick mermaid
the virgin crossed who saw me
one day counting
the grains of my sand.
Y a esa virgen nocturna And ask that nocturnal virgin
de serena vestidura lunar, dressed in serene clothing and full moon,
túrgida y llena preguntale ask her if the sea,
si el mar que la veía who saw her leave
despedirse llorando en mi memoria crying in my memory,
escribió por la arena aquella historia wrote that story on the sand
con su pulso y de espuma triste. with its pulse and sad, soft foam.
Y suave tú también corazón ve a la ribera y con voz de esa brisa que te oyera
preguntaselo al mar que el mar lo sabe. And you, love,
go to the shore
and with the voice of that breeze
that would hear you,
ask the sea,
because the sea knows.
This may be just the right place to ask the questions, “Would Bob Dylan’s
amazing repertoire have developed differently if he had learned French
or Spanish? Or, if he had sung a few songs in foreign languages like Judy
Collins and the Chamber Chorale?” Foreign languages bring us into
other worlds. They are, according to the philologist and author George
Steiner, a blessing and not a curse (as at Babel).
The translation of this love song by a little-known Venezuelan poet, set
by the well-known Venezuelan composer, Inocente Carreño, allows us to
“study the lyrics” so we can “identify” with them. But I’ll be the first to
admit that, while the words are evocative and imaginatively striking, the
song presents an enigma, maybe a few enigmas.
These start with the “conceit” of talking to the sea. They continue with
the appearance of the “quick mermaid.” And then, is the “virgin” of the
poem a real live woman, or is she a myth, like Diana, the chaste goddess
of the moon?
One thing is clear: the lover – whoever he or she is, and whomever he
or she is in love with – is unhappy. And finally, we need to ask ourselves
(or a Spanish-speaker) if the poet is speaking to his or her love in the last
verse, or simply to him- or herself?
Tancuj, tancuj, vykrúcaj, Slovak Folksong, arranged by Petr Eben
Tancuj, tancuj vykrúcaj, vykrúcaj
len mi pecku nezrúcaj, nezrúcaj, Dobrá pecka na zimu, na zimu, nemá každý perinu, perinu. Tra la….
Dance, dance, turn around, turn around
But don’t knock over the stove.
It is good for the winter.
Not everyone has a feather cover.
Tra la la la …
Stojí voják na vartě, na vartě, vroztrhaném vzeleném, kabáte od večera do rána, do rána rosa na ňho padala, padala. Tra la….
The soldier is standing on his watch
In his worn-out green coat.
From evening till morning
Dew fell on him.
Tra la la la …
Pobil cigán cigánku, cigánku, po zeleném župánku, župánku, cigánečka cigána, cigána, po zádečkách vidlama, vidlama.
Tra la….
The gypsy spanked the gypsy woman
Wearing her green housecoat,
But she also beat him
On the back with a pitchfork.
Tra la la la …
Learning something about Petr Eben, “the best-known Czech composer
both at home and abroad,” will help us identify with this folk song from
Slovakia. He was born in 1929 in Žamberk. He grew up in the medieval
town of Český Krumlov. As the son of a Jewish father, he spent the two
years of 1943-45 with his family in the Buchenwald concentration camp.
He then studied in Prague and taught there at Charles University and the
University of Prague for his entire career.
He is both a national and an international composer. His music “proves
that artistic expression firmly rooted in tradition can also be modern
and topical.” Eben has taken “subjects for his music from classical and
Biblical times, from Europe and non-European cultures – as well as from
modern music, literature, drama and fine arts.”
In “Tancuj, tancuj, vykrúcaj” we enter the international world of
folksongs. They are wonderfully imaginative. They do not follow any set
form or rule. And they are often not politically or domestically correct.
In this song, the subject changes in each verse. But the purpose is clear.
This is a song that makes one want to do just what it says: to dance.
Messe “Cum Jubilo,” Op. 11 by Maurice Duruflé
Kyrie
Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy on us,
Christe eleison. Christ have mercy on us,
Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy on us.
Gloria
Gloria in excelsis Deo, Et in terra pax Hominibus bonae voluntatis. Laudamus te, benedicimus te,
Adoramus te, glorificamus te. Gratias agimus tibi Propter magnam gloriam tuam. Domine Deus, Rex coelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens, Domine Fili unigenite Jesu Christe, Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris. Qui tollis peccata mundi, Miserere nobis. Qui tollis peccata mundi, Suscipe deprecationem nostram.
Qui sedes as dexteram Patris, Miserere nobis.
Quoniam tu solus sanctus.
Glory to God in the highest,
And peace on earth
To men of good will.
We praise you, we bless you,
We adore you, we glorify you,
We give you thanks
Because of your great glory.
Lord God, King of heaven,
God the Father omnipotent.
Lord, only-begotten Son
Jesus Christ;
Lord God, Lamb of God,
Son of the Father.
Who takes away the sin of the world,
Have mercy on us.
Who takes away the sin of the world,
Hear our prayer.
Who sits at the right hand of the Father,
Have mercy on us.
For you alone are holy,
Tu solus Dominus. Tu solus Altissimus, Jesu Christe, Cum sancto spiritu, In gloria Dei Patris. Amen.
You alone are the Lord,
You alone are most high, Jesus Christ,
With the Holy Spirit
In the glory of God the Father.
Amen.
Sanctus
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Holy, Holy, Holy,
Dominus Deus Sabaoth, Lord God of hosts!
Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.Heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Hosanna in excelsis! Hosanna in the highest!
Benedictus
Bendictus qui venit Blessed is he who comes
In nomine Domini. In the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in excelsis! Hosanna in the highest!
Agnus Dei
Agnus Dei, Qui tollis peccata mundi, Miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei,
Qui tollis peccata mundi, Miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, Qui tollis peccata mundi, Dona nobis pacem. Lamb of God,
Who takes away the sin of the world,
Have mercy on us.
Lamb of God,
Who takes away the sin of the world,
Have mercy on us.
Lamb of God,
Who takes away the sin of the world,
Grant us peace.
I don’t want to forget to provide a translation for the title of this piece,
for sometimes titles are overlooked. Messe “cum jubilo” means “Mass
with joy.” This indication is for everyone – for composer, singers,
organist, and audience. Music is a total experience. We all know that
it’s good for us. It lowers our blood pressure; it releases dopamine in
our bloodstream; it helps to maintain health. In classical myths, music
was credited with much more than “taming the wild beast.” It created
agriculture. It created medicine itself. It got Orpheus to hell and back.
A sung mass – especially a “Mass with joy” – is then a form of music
therapy. The traditional words of the Latin Mass have been sung for
over 1,000 years in no doubt a 1,000 different ways. The words are
wonderfully familiar, even to the majority who do not know much Latin.
Duruflé’s mass is “short” or brevis. It omits the longest part – the Credo.
Duruflé was a perfectionist as a composer. He wrote this mass in 1966
when he was 64. In his lifetime, he was more widely known as an
organist than as a composer. For fifty-six years he occupied the chair (or
rather the bench) of the Cathedral of St. Etienne-du-Mont in Paris.
The musicologist Nicholas Kaye writes of how Duruflé “showed great
restraint in this mass, basing it on plainsong – on the best known form
of plainsong, Gregorian chant.” The fact that it’s based on monastic
chanting means that it’s only natural to be set for a choir of male voices.
At the same time, it’s important to know that Duruflé dedicated it to his
wife, Marie-Madeleine, a prominent organist herself.
It may require a little bit of extra effort, but by following the words, the
lyrics, one can sense the composer’s personal appropriation of these
traditional texts. Nicholas Kaye says, “Duruflé’s mass is an effective
vehicle for his spiritual vision.”
“We Sing to Spring” by Claude Débussy, words by Comte de Ségur
(translated by Charles Horton)
We sing to Spring! Season of youth!
God gives to all the fields a bright crown,
The ardent sap flows out from its prison,
Woods and fields are now in full bloom,
Now a world invisible blossoms,
Streams now on pebbles are resounding,
As they sing a clarion song.
And the small animals adorn the hill;
And in the green field the hawthorn
sends the snow from its flowers.
All is as fresh as love and new light.
And from the fertile womb of the good earth
comes forth a fragrance and a song.
Again, as Bob Dylan reminds us, it all starts with the lyrics – with the
poetry. And here it also starts with a tradition that is at least 2,600
years old: that of celebrating the return of spring in words. There is a
direct line from Solomon in the Biblical Song of Songs to Count Anatole
Philippe de Ségur’s “We Sing to Spring!” As with King Solomon’s famous
poem, this lyric is made accessible to a wider audience through the art
of translation. (Purists can find the original poem, Salut Printemps, and
Débussy’s 1882 orchestral setting online.)
It is too late, however for us to ask Claude Débussy why he chose this
particular poem and why he set it for women’s voices. And it’s too late
to ask Count de Ségur (1823-1902) what he might remember about his
more famous great-grandfather, an earlier Comte de Ségur (1753-1830),
who was a colonel in General Rochambeau’s army that marched from
Newport, Rhode Island to Yorktown, Virginia in 1781 to help us win our
Revolutionary War against the British! But it’s not too late to ask Prof.
Charles Horton (who’s been at the University of Manitoba since 1980,
the year he contributed the translation for this “American” version)
about his experience of studying the original lyrics and identifying with
them in a meaningful way.
Claude Débussy (1862-1918) needs no long description here. His familiar
music is called “Impressionist,” like the movement in painting that was
contemporary to him. His most famous work is La Mer – “The Sea.” And
then there’s his “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun” which is inspired
by a famous symbolist poem of Stephane Mallarmé.
To return to Comte de Ségur’s poem: it’s a simple, straightforward
celebration of spring. Does knowing that its author also wrote a “Life of
St. Francis” bring it closer and make it more meaningful to us?
Four Songs for Women’s Chorus, Opus 17, by Johannes Brahms
1. Es tönt ein voller Harfenklang The Harp Resounds with Wild Refrain
Es tönt ein voller Harfenklang, Harp notes ring out,
den Lieb und Sehnsucht schwellen, Increasing love and longing;
er dringt zum Herzen tief und bang Deep and quivering, they pierce my heart,
und lässt das Auge quellen. And leave my eyes o’erflowing.
O rinnet, Tränen, nur herab,
O schlage Herz mit Beben!
Es sanken Lieb und Glück ins Grab,
verloren ist das Leben!
Fall then, my tears,
Throb and tremble, my heart!
Love and happiness lie in the grave,
My life is lost!
– Friedrich Ruperti (1805-1867)
2. Lied von Shakespeare Song from Twelfth Night
Komm herbei, komm herbei, Tod!
Und versenk in Cypressen den Leib.
Lass mich frei, lass mich frei, Not!
Mich erschlägt ein holdseliges Weib.
Mit Rosmarin mein Leichenhemd,
O bestellt es! Ob Lieb ans Herz mir tötlich kommt,
Treu hält es, Treu hält es. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair, cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it, did share it.
Keine Blum, keine Blum süss Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
sei gestreut auf den schwärzlichen Sarg. On my black coffin let there be strewn;
Keine Seel, keine Seel grüss Not a friend, not a friend greet
mein Gebein, My poor corpse,
wo die Erd es verbarg. Where my bones shall be thrown.
Um Ach und Weh zu wenden ab,
bergt alleine
mich wo kein Treuer wall ans Grab
und weine, und weine.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave
To weep there, to weep there.
– William Shakespeare
3. Der Gärtner The Gardener
Wohin ich geh und schaue,
in Feld und Wald und Tal,
vom Berg hinab in die Aue:
viel schöne, hohe Fraue,
grüss ich dich tausendmal.
Wherever I go and look,
in field and wood and valley,
from mountain down to meadow,
I greet you a thousand times,
Loveliest and noble lady.
In meinem Garten find ich
viel Blumen schön und fein,
viel Kränze wohl draus wind ich
und tausend Gedanken bind ich
und Grüsse mit darein. In my garden I find
Many a lovely, delicate flower;
I weave them into many garlands,
With a thousand thoughts and greetings
in them intertwined.
Ihr darf ich keinen reichen,
sie ist zu hoch und schön, die müssen alle verbleichen,
die Liebe nur ohne Gleichen
bleibt ewig im Herzen stehn.
None of these dare I offer her,
She is too high and beautiful;
They all must wither away,
But only love without equal
Remains forever in my heart.
Ich schein wohl froher Dinge, und schaffe auf und ab,
und ob das Herz zerspringe,
ich grabe fort und singe
und grab mir bald mein Grab.
I tend happy things
And labor back and forth,
And though my heart is breaking
I dig away and sing,
But soon will dig my grave.
– Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788-1857)
4. Gesang aus Fingal Song from Fingal
Wein’ an den Felsen der brausenden Winde weine, o Mädchen von Inistore! Beug über die Wogen dein schönes Haupt, lieblicher du als der Geist der Berge,
wenn er um Mittag in einem Sonnenstrahl
über das Schweigen von Morven fährt.
Weep on the rocks
of roaring winds,
Weep, o maiden of Inistore!
Bend thy fair head
over the waves,
Thou lovelier than the ghost of the hills,
When it moves,
in a sunbeam, at noon
Over the silence of Morven.
Er ist gefallen, He is fallen,
dein Jüngling liegt darnieder, thy youth is low,
bleich sank er unter Cuthullins Schwert. Pale beneath the sword of Cuthullin!
Nimmer wird Mut deinen No more shall valor
Liebling mehr reizen, raise thy love
das Blut von Königen zu vergiessen. To match the blood of kings.
Wein’ an den Felsen Weep on the rocks
der brausenden Winde of roaring winds,
weine, o Mädchen von Inistore! Weep, o maiden of Inistore!
Trenar, der liebliche Trenar starb. Trenar, graceful Trenar died.
Starb, O Mädchen von Inistore! Died! O maiden of Inistore.
Seine grauen Hunde heulen daheim; His gray dogs are howling at home;
sie sehn seinen Geist vorüber ziehn. They see his ghost passing.
Trenar, der liebliche Trenar starb. Trenar, graceful Trenar died.
Starb, O Mädchen von Inistore! Died! O maiden of Inistore!
Sein Bogen hängt His bow hangs
ungespannt in der Halle, in the hall unstrung.
nichts regt sich Nothing moves
auf der Haide der Rehe. on the heath of the deer.
Wein’ an den Felsen Weep on the rocks
der brausenden Winde of roaring winds,
weine, o Mädchen von Inistore! Weep, o maiden of Inistore!
– Ossian (pen name of James MacPherson, 1761)
The best way to begin to identify with these four seemingly sad love
songs is to quote from the speech that introduces the second song, the
one from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Duke Orsino is speaking to Feste,
his court jester (who’s also a musician), and he says:
O fellow, come, the song we had last night.
The spinster and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bone
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth
And dallies with the innocence of love.
These words suggest that the songs we like best are ones we’ve heard
before, even if it were just “last night.” And then it expresses – or
justifies – what Brahms did in taking Shakespeare’s song and the
three others and setting them for women’s voices. For the voice, the
actual person speaking, in the four poems is male. (This is at least
grammatically certain for the second and third poems, but most likely
also for the first and last. But you, too, can study the lyrics and decide
for yourself!)
So here we have four songs by men which sing of the potentially lethal
power of love – especially of lost love. Yet when they are sung by
women, a transformation takes place. This might be the same alteration,
or pleasant misunderstanding, that allows Duke Orsino to observe how
the Song from Twelfth Night “dallies [i.e. plays] with the innocence of
love.”
I don’t think it’s just a clever pun to say, “The composer plays with the
words.” For that’s what music does. The transformation occasioned by
putting these poems to music is similar to what occurs when musicians
“play the blues” – something sad is transformed into something
enjoyable. At least the singing makes the singer feel better.
So, once again, be like Bob Dylan as a fan of great songs: study the lyrics.
Two of them, the first and the third, come from the great period of
German Romanticism. (Think Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther.)
The last is from a period in Scottish literature when a mid-18th century
author pretended to have discovered a cache of ancient Scots Gaelic
songs and ballads whose author was the ancient, mythical bard Ossian.
When the real author of the poems, James MacPherson, was challenged
to prove their authenticity, he promised but never delivered “the
originals.” His Works of Ossian were essentially literary folk songs – like
Shakespeare’s, like Ruperti’s, like von Eichendorff’s. They were once
immensely popular. They still, in fact, retain much of their original
creative energy.
“Hark, I Hear the Harps Eternal,” traditional hymn arranged by Alice
Parker
“Soon Ah Will Be Done,” Traditional Spiritual arranged by William L.
Dawson
“Walk Together, Children,” Traditional Spiritual arranged by Moses Hogan
In his interview in AARP, the Magazine, Bob Dylan says:
Folk music came at exactly the right time in my life. It wouldn’t
have happened ten years later – and ten years earlier I wouldn’t
have known what kinds of songs these were. They were just so
different than popular music.
Spirituals – as well as some of the great hymns – stand in a class by
themselves. They come from the folk tradition and they remain popular.
They are American and they are international. They are both simple and
they are immensely pleasing. And yet … “They don’t make them like that
any more!”
Who can explain this? Perhaps Bob Dylan could. He confided in his AARP
interview that:
If I had to do it all over again, I’d be a schoolteacher – probably
teach Roman history or theology.
Program Notes by: Rev. Donald H. Fox, Staff Chaplain at Mayo Clinic
Health System – Franciscan Healthcare and Pastor of Lower Coon Valley
Lutheran Church and wannabe French teacher (who’s also wondering
if wannabe schoolteacher Bob Dylan might take the stage and write
the Program Notes for the first concert of the Chamber Chorale’s 30th
season!)