Download CHICHESTER PSALMS: PROGRAM NOTES Joan Tower Second

CHICHESTER PSALMS: PROGRAM NOTES
Joan Tower
B. 1938
Second Fanfare for the Uncommon Woman
5”
When Henry Wallace, Vice President under Franklin Delano Roosevelt, proclaimed a “century of the com
mon man,” America was caught up in the immediacy of World War II, yet he projected forward to anoth
er war: that of inequality. “When the time of peace comes,” he proclaimed, “The citizen will again have
a duty, the supreme duty of sacrificing the lesser interest for the greater interest of the general welfare.
Those who write the peace must think of the whole world.” Aaron Copland’s Fanfare for the Common M
an propagandized this message of collective sacrifice for the common good, and premiered, appropriatel
y enough, during tax season.
Fast-forward to the world in which Joan Tower found her voice as a composer, and the role and interest
of women was still absent from Wallace’s vision of the common man. In response, Joan Tower did not
protest Copland’s music, but rather respectfully embellished upon it, writing five separate “Fanfares for
the Uncommon Woman,” each for a different instrumental configuration. Tower’s Second Fanfare was
written in 1989 and premiered at Lincoln Center in New York City by members of the Orchestra of St.
Luke’s.
Ralph Vaughan Williams
(1872-1958)
Five Variants of “Dives and Lazarus”
11”
There are at least two sides to Ralph Vaughan Williams. Perhaps he might be considered England’s
answer to Béla Bartok: in one sense, a curator of folkloric tradition and nationalism dating back
centuries upon centuries; in another, he is an avant-garde modernist, and among the most experimental
of composers in history. One need merely listen, for instance, to his Sixth Symphony in juxtaposition
with the ever popular Lark Ascending to hear the contrast. The composer’s Five Variants on ‘Dives and
Lazarus’ belongs more to the traditionalist side of Vaughan Williams, and in his lush setting for string
orchestra and harp of a centuries-old ballad, the composer enhances the tune without detracting too
much from its authenticity and familiarity, just as he had done with his famous Fantasia
on ‘Greensleeves.’ “Dives and Lazarus” is an old English carol, sung in folk traditions for hundreds of
years before being collected and published as part of a widely circulating compilation by the American
folklorist Francis James Child in the mid-nineteenth century. The carol sets to music the Biblical parable
of the rich man and Lazarus the beggar, and seems to date as far back as the early seventeenth century,
though there is hardly a “definitive” version of the tune, just as there is no definitive rendition of, for
instance, Amazing Grace. For this reason, the composer drew from multiple sources in creating this
work. He writes in the score:
"These variants are not exact replicas of traditional tunes, but rather reminiscences of various
versions in my own collection and those of others.” With these various melodies as his clay,
Vaughan Williams creates a set of five variations which build in energy and complexity in
succession. At times, the composer incorporates string solos, and at others, as in the third
variant, makes clever use of divisi strings to create a dense contrapuntal texture. The entire work
maintains a sense of calm composure, and the composer restrains excitement within reason. The
final variant ends placidly and tenderly, reflecting nostalgically on the comfort of an old and
familiar melody.”
Constant Lambert
(1905-1951)
Rio Grande
15”
Like the river it so vividly describes, Constant Lambert’s The Rio Grande rushes forward from its
beginning with a surge of energy. The composer wastes no time. In no more than fifteen minutes of
music, he encompasses styles ranging from jazz to high modernism, and salsa to impressionism. Lambert
only lived to his mid-forties: his life, like his music, was brief and filled with excitement, never leaving a
dull moment. The Rio Grande is the work for which the Englishman is best remembered, which he wrote
while in his early thirties, still fresh and optimistic. One can easily hear his enthusiasm from the opening
bars.
In the orchestra, woodwinds are noticeably absent, leading to a spare and quite modern instrumental
texture, supplemented by colorful obligato writing for solo piano, much like that of George Gershwin’s
famous Rhapsody in Blue. This work is one with which Lambert’s composition undoubtedly shares much
in common. Despite the smaller than normal instrumentation, the composer orchestrates so carefully as
to create a sense of depth and textural complexity that one would expect of a far larger ensemble. With
his lush scoring, the impression of his composition teacher Vaughan Williams is easily discernible. In
many respects, this pseudo-cantata with a Jazz air resembles his teacher’s Sea Symphony, however in
most respects it is a completely unique work unlike most anything else written in the twentieth century.
As the energy fades at its conclusion, and night sets over the river so vividly described in the text, the
mood calms, and, as the final line of Sir Sacheverell Sitwell’s text describes, “slow and gentle their
fierceness tempered by the air the flows between.” To write music which astounds with spectacle,
bombast, quickness, and rhythm is a challenge, but it takes a composer of preternatural maturity and
wisdom beyond his years to write music which ends with such a sense of calm acceptance.
Traditional: Songs from the Underground Railroad
For the men, women, and children living in slavery in the United States just over a century and a half
ago, music was not just a diversion, nor was it mere entertainment. In many cases, it led to their very
freedom and survival. The spirituals that circulated among the enslaved on plantations – filtered
through their attendance in church and made unique and all their own – contained messages in multiple
forms. They carried a message of promise, for many of the text settings spoke of the rewards of heaven
after a life of struggle. They also carried a message of determination, as many of these songs relayed the
stories of Biblical heroes, such as David, who conquered the enormous Goliath, or Moses, who led his
people to freedom from the rule of pharaoh. Many also believe that these songs carried very important
messages of another kind: secret signals and instructions, used by those who helped move slaves to
freedom in the Underground Railroad in order to conceal information from police and slave-owners. It is
believed that Harriet Tubman, for instance, sang specific songs that signified that the “coast is clear,”
and others to note the presence of danger. To hear one of these spirituals today, it is hard to imagine
the impact that they had on the lives of these people. Their very lives depended on these songs, in many
cases. “Go Down Moses” retells the story of the Biblical hero who led his people to freedom: the very
goal of those who helped move slaves north on the Underground Railroad. Some speculate that the text
of “Steal Away,” and particularly the line “green trees are bending,” was used to convey the secret
message that the opportune time to attempt an escape to the north was in the Spring, for this would
give them enough time to reach their destination before the bitter cold and snows of winter came.
“Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” was written by Uncle Wallas Willis, a Choctaw freedman. These were
African slaves who had been adopted into the Choctaw nation, which, by law, meant that they were free
men. Willis’s talents were immediately recognized, and he formed a singing ensemble which
disseminated his music throughout the United States. His songs have endured for well over a century.
Leonard Bernstein
(1918-1990)
Chichester Psalms
19”
Chichester is a cathedral city in southeastern England, and home to a church that was founded in the
eleventh century. The cathedral has hosted a large choral festival for a number of years, and in 1965
asked Leonard Bernstein to compose a work for that year's occasion: a gathering of a number of choirs
from the region. The timing was fortuitous, as Bernstein had opted to take a sabbatical from his duties
as conductor of the New York Philharmonic in order to turn more to composition. What's more, a
projected musical setting of Thornton Wilder's The Skin of Our Teeth had fizzled out, leaving the
composer with a number of thematic ideas and inventions with as of then no place for them. Many of
these themes would ultimately find their way into the Chichester Psalms, a work which may be called a
sort of "psalmic suite."
Though Chichester cathedral is Anglican in denomination, the request that Bernstein set a number of
psalms ultimately led to a deepening of his relationship, or at least some confrontation, with his own
Judaism. After beginning work on the project, the composer came to believe that the best way to set the
psalms was in the original Hebrew.
The vibrant opening, with its rousing brass, perfectly suits the text, as the choir intones "Awake, psaltery
and harp. I will arouse the dawn!" Once awoken, the choir and orchestra launch into a lively dance in
7/8, which perfectly aligns with the syllabic setting of the Hebrew text.
The soloist in the 23rd psalm was expressly requested by Bernstein to be a boy soprano, and unlike in
many cases could not in his mind be substituted adequately by a female soprano. This is because the
composer deliberately sought to evoke the young shepherd David, casting the part much as he might do
in a theatrical production. In this psalm setting, David is accompanied by the harp, meant to connote a
lute from the biblical era, and his melody is peaceful and solemn, calling to mind the pastoral setting of a
field, with the boy surrounded by his flock. A jarring interruption occurs towards the middle of the
setting, as a choir of men asks "Why do the nations rage?" Given the time of its composition, we cannot
help but draw a comparison between this scene and the anti-war sentiment among many artists at the
time.
Bernstein once confessed that “The work that I have been writing all my life is about the struggle that is
born of the crisis of our century, a crisis of faith.” The final movement articulates a resolution of this
struggle, perhaps even in the composer himself, as he looked deeply at his own belief in composing it.
From the tension that opens the setting, the composer relaxes the music as the choir intones text from
Psalm 131, proclaiming that “Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul.” Perhaps Bernstein is
referring to his own state of serenity, or perhaps to a hope that we all might come together in unity and
resolve our conflicts and hatred. He did, after all, refer to work as his "Prayer for peace."