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Program Introduction
It has become almost a redundancy in our lives to be reminded that our planet, “our island home,” is made
up more of water than anything else. From outer space, our fragile Earth is indeed quite blue and quite
watery. To be sure, water touches different parts of our spiritual selves. From the fountain of wisdom, we
draw strength. At our birth we emerge from water, at our initiations we are baptized with water, at our
deaths (according to many African American spirituals) we return to the river that flows by the throne of
God. All of us are drawn in some way to the deep waters of life, looking for that draught which will quench
our thirst. For Ponce de Leon, it was the “fountain of youth,” others have been less fantastical in their
search.
The power of water seems to heal, redeem, restore and refresh–through all cultures and times–in all faiths
and in every age. For some people, a quick look at the mighty ocean does the trick; it doesn’t take long.
Others need and long for a quiet afternoon by a secluded mountain brook. Thoreau ached for the solitude
of Walden Pond. As we consider the “washing” of the waters in this program, we shall sing of the rivers of
life, the water of the baptismal font, the fountain of all knowledge. We search, like the hart, for the waterbrook. Our souls are athirst.
Meanwhile, life is rough and problems arise from all sorts of different places. More than we wish, we are in
the storm, buffeted about by the heavy winds and crashing waves. We feel as if we might drown. The old
African American spiritual (co-opted by the victims of Hurricane Katrina) cries out, “I’ve been in the storm
so long” and asks for a little time to pray. The victims of the Babylonian Captivity–those exiles from
Jerusalem who would one day call themselves the people of Israel–felt that the storm had so taken over
the lives that, as they sat by the riverbanks in a strange land, they could no longer sing their own music.
Composers in different centuries, on different continents, of varying degrees of faith and spirituality, have
responded to these needs. They have begged us to sing unto the Lord new songs, even in alien lands. For
Palestrina and Lassus, the pain of separation is real. For Victoria, the restoration of faith is assured and
ecstatic. For Gavin Bryars, a contemporary English composer, the text of sadness and alienation is married
to a true story of horror and fright.
There is hope, though. There are, in fact, bridges over troubled waters. Constant mixing of metaphors
allows me to say, the deep river continues to run and as it does, we are swept along by its graceful,
magnificent tide. Our souls needs refreshing, our love-sickness can be cured: mighty, rolling rivers wash us.
They can cleanse us and restore us. Hallelujah, indeed!
—William Fred Scott,
Music Director
Program Notes/Texts and Translations
O Sing Unto the Lord a New Song – Thomas Tomkins (1572 – 1656)
In that incredible series of composers whose music forms the index of every anthology of Tudor church
music, the name Thomas Tomkins always comes up. Generally, it comes last, not because his music is
any less perfect or enjoyable than that of Byrd, Morley, Tallis or Tye. Rather, it is because Tomkins comes
fairly late in the English Renaissance chronology. Tomkins was born in 1572, almost three-quarters of a
century after Tallis and Tye. Tomkins was responsible for the music at the coronation of Charles I in 1625.
A doomed appointment as the composer of the king’s music “in ordinary” may have led to his spending
increasingly less time in London and more time in Worcester. By 1646, parliamentary forces occupied that
city, dismantled the cathedral organ, and disbanded the choir. Tomkins continued to live on the cathedral
grounds until 1654. He died two years later.
A simple ebullience characterizes Tomkins’ church anthems. Like his teacher, William Byrd, he was drawn
to the contrapuntal forms of Renaissance music employing cross-relations, alternating between polyphonic and homophonic textures based on text, scoring for equal treble voices, and utilizing dotted rhythms to
exhibit a brilliant fanfare quality to his anthems.
O sing unto the Lord a new song,
Let the congregation of saints sing praise unto Him,
Let Israel rejoice in Him that made Him,
and let the children of Zion forever sing, Alleluia.
Almighty God, the Fountain of All Wisdom – Tomkins
Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom,
which knowst our necessities before we ask,
and our ignorance in asking;
We beseech thee to have compassion on our infirmities;
and those things which for our unworthiness we dare not,
and for our blindness we cannot ask,
vouchsafe to give us for the worthiness of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Shall We Gather at the River – Robert Lowry (1826-1899), arr. William Fred Scott
Although many are acquainted with Robert Lowry’s hymns, his real passion throughout his life was preaching. His humor, vivid descriptions, and creative imagination captured audiences at his various ministerial
posts in West Chester, Pennsylvania from 1854-1858; New York City from 1859-1861; Brooklyn from 18611869; Lewisburg, Pennsylvania from 1869-1875, and Plainfield, New Jersey from 1875-1880.
When asked about his process for composing, Lowry responded, “I have no method. Sometimes the music
comes and the words follow, fitted insensibly to the melody. I watch my moods, and when anything good
strikes me, whether words or music, and no matter where I am, at home or on the street, I jot it down.
Often the margin of a newspaper or the back of an envelope serves as a notebook. My brain is a sort of
spinning machine, I think, for there is music running through it all the time. I do not pick out my music on
the keys of an instrument. The tunes of nearly all the hymns I have written have been completed on paper
before I tried them on the organ. Frequently the words of the hymn and the music have been written at
the same time.”
Shall We Gather at the River is arguably the most popular hymn that Reverend Lowry ever wrote. The song
appeared on the soundtrack to John Ford’s film, “My Darling Clementine.” Ostensibly, it was also a tune
that appealed to composers as different as Aaron Copland and Charles Ives. Copland used the hymn as one
of his “Old American Songs” and Ives was so fond of the hymn that he virtually re-wrote it as a sophisticated and daring art song. Ives also used the melody in his fourth sonata for violin and piano.
Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
Refrain:
Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river;
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Sicut cervus – Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (c. 1525 –1594)
Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina was born in the town from which he took his name. He was Maestro di
Cappella at St. Peter’s in Rome from 1551-1554 and again from 1571 until his death in 1594. At a moment in
musical history in which the church fathers were beginning to decry too much description (ornamentation)
and flair (harmonic invention), Palestrina stuck to a musical style which was based on seriousness and sobriety. His “strict” style of Renaissance counterpoint has been held up as a pedagogical model by students
of nearly every succeeding generation. Palestrina achieved a mastery of contrapuntal techniques, meticulous voice leading, and refined treatment of dissonance now universally idealized as the “Palestrina style.”
This is not to say that Palestrina’s music is inexpressive or occasionally daring. In fact, there is a personal
and deeply emotional core to all of his sacred works. He wrote in the prima prattica style, codified by the
treatises of Zarlino, which prioritized the polyphonic form and structure over text.
The motet, Sicut cervus, is probably one of the most well-known motets in the world of standard choral
repertoire. Palestrina achieves balance and elegance by rarely composing leaps larger than a fifth unless
immediately followed by stepwise descending motion. The phrases are simple and clear and create ebb
and flow with the use of syllabic stress while other vocal lines taper in volume.
Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aquarum,
ita desiderat anima mea ad te, Deus.
As the deer longs for the flowing streams,
so longs my soul for thee, O God.
Ainsi qu’on oit le cerf bruire – Claude Goudimel (c. 1514 – 1572)
Not much is known of Claude Goudimel’s early life. He was a native of Besancon, a friend of the great poet
Ronsard, a teacher of repute, and a staunch admirer of the Psalms following his conversion from Catholicism to Calvinism. In fact, most of Goudimel’s religious output is devoted to settings of the Psalms. In
Goudimel’s oeuvre, there are Latin works which include three settings of the Mass and four of the Magnificat, but the largest body of work is contained in eight books of “Les Pseaumes de David.” Goudimel’s
career took him from Besancon to Paris, from Paris to Metz (a strongly Huguenot stronghold) and finally
to Lyons, where he was a victim of the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacres that decimated the Huguenot
population of that city in the last days of August, 1572.
Goudimel’s Psalm settings are in one of three styles that were popular during the 16th century – those
that are homophonic (vertical sonorities); those in which the alto, tenor, and bass vocal lines were altered
tunes to a main soprano melody; and those based solely in imitation. Goudimel wrote 150 Calvinist Psalm
settings in the second style. Those familiar with the Advent carol, “Comfort, comfort ye, my people” will
quickly recognize Goudimel’s original setting.
Ainsi qu’on oit le cerf bruire,
Pourchassant le frais des eaux:
Ainsi mon Coeur qui souspire,
Seigneur, après tes ruisseaux,
Va toujours criant, suivant,
Le grand, le grand Dieu vivant:
Helas! Donques quand serace,
Que verrai de Dieu la face?
Jours et nuits pour ma viande.
De pleurs me vay soustenant,
Quand je voy qu’on me demande,
Où est ton Dieu maintenant?
Je fond en me souvenant,
Qu’en troupe j’alloy menant,
Priant, chantant, grosse bande
Faire au temple son offrande.
As a rustling deer
Chases after quiet waters,
So my thirsting soul longs,
Lord, for your all-refreshing grace;
My soul cries out for your aid,
For sight of the living God,
O when shall my eyes behold thee?
When shall I see thee face to face?
Days and nights as bitter food,
My tears have sustained me;
Mocking men, to try my patience,
Have cried, “Where is your God now?”
Why are you cast down, o my soul?
Why are you so disquieted?
Praying and singing I shall praise Him.
I will make an offering in His temple.
Sitivit anima mea – Manuel Cardoso (c. 1566 – 1650)
Cardoso was baptized in Fronteira, near Pontealegre, Portugal in 1566 and lived to a ripe old age, dying in
Lisbon in 1650. As a young man he joined the Carmelite order, taking vows in 1589. Perhaps his closeness
to King John IV (whom he had known when the future king was simply the youthful Duke of Barcelos)
contributed to his standing as the most published of all Portuguese composers of his time. Publishing was
a difficult and very expensive business, especially since Cardoso insisted on having his compositions published in far-away Antwerp. A royal patron would have been a good thing (And it was).
Manuel Cardoso and Tomas Luis de Victoria may certainly be considered masters of Iberian Renaissance
polyphony, yet as recently as fifty years ago, Cardoso’s name merited a scant paragraph of information in
textbooks on Renaissance music and Victoria was still being referred to by the Italian spelling of his name,
Vittoria. In fact, Donald Grout’s pioneering History of Western Music doesn’t even grant Cardoso a footnote. Today we recognize that there is enormous value to the output of Cardoso, even if the quantity is
small. There are three volumes of Mass settings and an additional volume of “Varios motetes.” It is possible that a number of Cardoso’s greatest works perished in the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, which destroyed
the musical library dating back to King John IV.
Like Victoria, he had clearly studied the music of Palestrina, which restraint and contrapuntal style served
him as a fine model. Unlike Palestrina, however, Cardoso is more willing to experiment with modality and
vocal texture, text-painting and dissonance in Sitivit anima mea. This motet exemplifies his mastery of text
painting by associating an emotion with vocal expression; vibrant descending vocal lines create dissonance
against sustained tones suggesting one’s worldly struggle, and long soprano notes float upwards towards
heaven in a feeling of resignation or rest.
Sitivit anima mea ad Deum
fortem vivum: quando veniam et
apparebo ante faciem Dei mei?
Quis dabit mihi pennas sicut columbæ
et volabo et requiescam?
My soul hath thirsted after God, who is
when shall I come and
appear before the face of my God?
Who will give me wings as of a dove
and I shall fly and be at rest?
I Been in De Storm So Long – Traditional African-American Spiritual, arr. Wondemagegnehu
Tesfa Wondemagegnehu, Conductor of the APM Radio Choir & Manager of the Choral Works Initiative for
American Public Media, previously served as Assistant Artistic Director of VocalEssence in Minneapolis,
MN. As a high school teacher, he was named Orange County Public School’s Teacher of the Year (2013) and
received the Macy’s National Magic of Teaching Award (2013). Wondemagegnehu is widely in demand as a
guest conductor and lecturer. Wondemagegnehu holds a Master of Music degree in Choral Conducting and
Vocal Performance from the Florida State University and a Bachelor of Music degree in Vocal Performance
from the University of Memphis. Biography taken from the composer’s website, www.tesfawon.com.
This setting of the old spiritual lament was written in response to the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, which
destroyed so many lives and so much property a decade ago. Almost two thousand people died in the
hurricane, which hit the Gulf Coast of the United States in late August, 2005. After an initial, quiet solo, the
choral responses alternate between suffering and hope, heavenly jubilation and earthly anger before ending with a quicker and more insistent, “Give me a little time to pray.”
Give me little time to pray.
I’ve been in de storm so long; I’ve been in de storm so long children;
Please give me little time to pray.
Please, let me tell my mother how I come along,
Please, give me little time to pray; with a hung down head an’ a aching heart,
Please, give me little time to pray.
When I get to heaven, I’ll walk all about,
Please give me little time to pray.
They’ll be nobody there to turn me out,
Please give me little time to pray.
Super flumina Babylonis – Orlando di Lasso (c. 1530 – 1594)
To his contemporaries, he was the “Prince of Music,” the “King of Musicians,” the “Divine Orlando.” We
speak of Orlando di Lasso, born in the French-speaking province of Hainault in present-day Belgium in 1532.
Today it is clear that Lasso’s compositional voice is recognized as one of the great ones of his time. It was,
however, his singing voice that got him abducted no fewer than three times during his childhood. His teens
were spent in southern Italy and Rome where he became choirmaster at the Basilica of St. John Lateran
in 1551, a position which would be held by Palestrina following his departure in 1554. By 1556 he had entered the service of the Bavarian court at Munich, and there he remained until his death in 1594, working
not only as court composer but also in equal demand as a singer. It was in Munich that Lasso was visited
by Andrea Gabrieli, who was impressed enough with the court to remain for at least a year. Orlando took
charge of the ducal chapel in 1563, and, based on the number of Magnificat settings, it seems the Duke had
a preference to celebrate Vespers in a solemn fashion.
A master of all the major vocal genres of his time – French chanson, Italian madrigal, German lied, as well
as Latin Mass and motet – Lasso became the most published composer of the sixteenth century. His
setting of Super flumina Babylonis includes only the first part of the complete doleful text. His use of pervasive imitation allows for a single vocal line to be copied directly or at a fifth lower; this creates a masterful
tapestry of a community mourning together by the waterside.
Super flumina Babylonis
illic sedimus et flevimus,
dum recordaremur Sion.
By the waters of Babylon
we sat down and wept,
when we remembered thee, Zion.
Super flumina Babylonis – Gavin Bryars (b. 1943)
Gavin Bryars was commissioned to write Super flumina Babylonis for the opening of the National Centre for
Early Music in York, England, in 2000. The haunting work includes a hybrid of two sacred and ubiquitous
texts (Super flumina Babylonis and Ave regina caelorum) to depict a famous miracle that was observed in
York around 1377. When a group of local fisherman discovered a fourteen year-old girl floating in the Ouse
river, they immediately took her to St. Mary’s Abbey for guidance regarding her unresponsive state. When
the monks called upon the Virgin Mary by singing Ave regina caelorum, they began to notice that the girl
regained consciousness. The girl stayed in the chapel the following night and made a speedy recovery by
dawn.
The text alone creates an atmosphere of supplication that is often interrupted by emotions that stem from
personal strife. In the composer’s note, Bryars writes, “The piece does not attempt to tell the story in a
literal way but rather approaches the legend through a series of musical and textual fragments…coincidences of phrases between the various texts, as well as divergences of text within different settings of the
same material.”
Bryars aids his textual construct by tipping his hat to the Notre Dame School of Composition from the 14th
and 15th centuries; the utilization of drones (long sustained notes) and a cantus firmus create a contemplative soundscape. Semitone dissonances, various dynamics, and triplets are also some other compositional
devices that provide contrast to this; he creates feelings of friction and alleviation, intensity by volume,
and a celebratory section that might portray the arrival of the Virgin Mary in a sacred space.
Ave, Salve, Ave
Salve radix, salve porta,
Salve radix sancta
Super flumina Babilonis
ibi sedimus et flevius
(salve)
Super salices in medio eius
suspendimus citharas nostra
Hail, Hail, Hail
Hail root, hail gate
Hail holy root
By the waters of Babylon
there we sat down and wept
(Hail)
We hung our harps on the willows
in the midst thereof
Quomodo cantabimus canticum Domini
in terra aliena?
How shall we sing the Lord’s songs
in a strange land?
Super flumina Eboracis
ibi sedimus et flevimus
By the waters of York
there we sat down and wept
Super omnes speciosa
salve radix, salve porta,
salve radix sancta
More beautiful than all others
Hail root, hail gate
Hail holy root
Ave regina Caelorum
Ave domina angelorum
Gaude virgo gloriosa
super omnes speciosa
Vale, O valde decora
Hail, Queen of Heaven
Hail, mistress of the angelsRejoice, glorious Virgin
more beautiful than all the others
Fairwell, most fair one
Ave regina Caelorum
Ave domina angelorum
Salve radix sancta
Ex qua mundo lux est orta
Hail, Queen of Heaven
Hail, mistress of the angels
Hail, holy root
from whom light sprang over the world
Gaude virgo gloriosa
Super omnes speciosa
Vale valde decora
Et pro nobis semper Christum exora.
Amen.
Rejoice, glorious Virgin
more beautiful than all others
Fairwell, most fair one,
and entreat Christ for ever on our behalf.
Amen.
Deep River – Traditional African-American Spiritual, arr. Moses Hogan
Moses Hogan is one of the most popular African-American spiritual arrangers in our day. It was a tragic day
when he left us in February of 2003 because his age was only 45. Hogan not only achieved great esteem as
a composer, but also as a concert pianist. He won the 28th annual Kosciuszko Foundation Chopin Competition and it is no news that he was that adept in front of the keys since the age of nine. Hogan matriculated
at the Oberlin Conservatory, the Juilliard School of Music, and Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge,
where he polished his arranging skills and eventually started two groups under his leadership: the Moses
Hogan Chorale and the Moses Hogan Singers. He published over 70 works, some receiving attention and
praise from critics worldwide, including Gramophone magazine. His music typically calls for thick homophonic textures, call and response patterns, improvisational solo sections, and a wide array of dynamics. Deep
River is set homophonically and it utilizes the lower range of most of the choral parts not only to depict the
depth of the Jordan river, but also the worldly struggles of those for whom the “Promised Land” is the ultimate consolation.
Deep river, my home is over Jordan.
Deep river, Lord, I want to cross over into campground.
O don’t you want to go to that Gospel feast?
That promise land where all is peace?
Oh, deep river, Lord, I want to cross over into campground.
Draw On, Sweet Night – John Wilbye (1574 – 1638)
Madrigals were the popular and secular songs of the Renaissance. They were performed by amateurs and
professionals alike, in a variety of settings, and in every imaginable locale. The texts often dealt with everyday matters, including food and drink, travels, the pursuit of love, and death. The madrigal developed in
Italy and quickly spread north through Europe and across the English Channel due to the Musica Transalpina in 1588, which was a published set of Italian madrigals that included English translations.
John Wilbye did not have a prolific output of compositions compared to his contemporaries, Thomas Morley and Thomas Weelkes. Perhaps this is due to the fact that he devoted his energy to the Kytson family.
Evidently, Lady Elizabeth Kytson was a patron of the arts, especially music, and desired to keep her favorite musicians in her home until she passed away in 1628. Wilbye then stayed with another Kytson family
member in Colchester, where he stayed until his own death in 1638. Wilbye’s compositions are considered
by many scholars to represent the pinnacle of the English madrigal genre through their use of expressiveword-painting and chromaticism. Draw On, Sweet Night is full of bleak suspensions followed by sweet
releases; Wilbye uses these devices to show how the pain of desperation inundates a gloomy lover as he
cries out to the night for comfort.
Draw on, sweet night, best friend unto those cares
That do arise from painful melancholy.
My life so ill through want of comfort fares,
that unto thee I consecrate it wholly.
Sweet night, draw on, my griefs when they be told
to shades and darkness, find some ease from paining,
And while thou all in silence dost enfold,
I then shall have best time for my complaining.
Hard by the Crystal Fountain – Thomas Morley (1558 – 1603)
The three most influential composers of the English madrigal during the Renaissance (and the composers
whose works survived with the most longevity) were Thomas Weelkes, John Wilbye, and Thomas Morley.
The earliest English madrigals were often “borrowed” Italian madrigals, but the genre quickly found new
life and a style of its own through composers like Thomas Morley, who developed a descriptive and often
playful style for these short, entertaining pieces. The flourishing of the English madrigal was directly linked
to the development of English poetry of the 16th and 17th Centuries; particularly the sonnet, since its meter was conducive to the compositional style English composers learned from Italian madrigalists. Morley
had the privilege of publishing most of his works because he was fortunate enough to to take over William
Byrd’s license to print and publish music after his teacher passed. While Byrd, and many before him, predominately published sacred works, Morley focused his efforts in a surge of secular music that could be
both casual or sung in a more formal setting. Hard by the Crystal Fountain is one of twenty-five madrigals
belonging to The Triumphs of Oriana, a collection of 5 and 6-voiced madrigals devoted to Elizabeth I in 1601.
Hard by a crystal fountain,
Oriana the Bright lay down asleeping.
The birds they finely chirped, the winds were stilled;
sweetly with these accenting the air was filled.
This is that Fair, whose head a crown deserveth,
which Heav’n for her reserveth.
Leave, shepherds, your lambs keeping,
upon the barren mountain,
and nymphs attend on her and leave your bowers,
for she the shepherd’s life maintains and yours.
Then sang the shepherds and nymphs of Diana:
Long live fair Oriana!
Shenandoah – Traditional American Folksong, arr. James Erb
A classic American folksong, Shenandoah is adored both here in the United States and around the world.
For years Chanticleer has performed a hybrid adaptation of two popular arrangements by Marshall Bartholomew and Virginia-based composer, arranger and conductor James Erb. The arrangement is colorful,
fluid, and eventually blossoms into a rich choral texture that aurally expands the famous Missouri river for
the listener. The most elegant and lush section of the piece comes to us near its end, where two soprano
lines sing in canon while the alto line provides contrast with a counter-melody. Meanwhile low tenor and
bass chords provide the harmonic foundation for the expressive voices above them.
O Shenando’, I long to see you,
And hear your rolling river,
Way, we’re bound away,
Across the wide Missouri.
I long to see your smiling valley,
And hear your rolling river,
Way, we’re bound away,
Across the wide Missouri.
‘Tis sev’n long years since last I see you,
And hear your rolling river,
Way, we’re bound away,
Across the wide Missouri.
O Shenando’.
The Washing of the Water - Peter Gabriel (b. 1950), arr. Mason Bates
Who hasn’t felt the sort of ache and desperation so earnestly expressed in Peter Gabriel’s The Washing
of the Water? “River, River carry me on,” the repeated plea evokes the symbolic power of flowing water
to cleanse, redeem, and restore. Mason Bates is a world-renowned, multi-award-winning composer, who
often infuses symphonic orchestral works with modern electronic elements influenced by his alternate
gig as a DJ. This is Bates’ first time arranging a piece of music that isn’t his own, and we consider ourselves
extremely lucky that he’s done so for us. The piece begins with an easy water current that changes direction, intensity, and morphs into a Class 5 white water rapids with accents and jarring rhythms. The journey
of restoration is complete when the water subsides back to the beginning motive, ending the piece on an
empty open-fifth interval.
“Every day when I worked on this, I was brought a little bit closer to my emotional core. Its simplicity, tethered to a deep and genuine plaintiveness, rank it with any folksong that I know.”
--Mason Bates
River, show me how to float
I feel like I’m sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet won’t touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
Going away, away towards the sea
River deep, can you lift up and carry me
Oh roll on though the heartland
‘Til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high
‘Til the washing of the water make it all alright
Let your waters reach me like she reached me tonight
Letting go, it’s so hard
The way it’s hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with thing
‘Cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide
River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away
Suzanne – Leonard Cohen (b. 1934), arr. Vince Peterson
Suzanne is about the meeting of two spirits that intimately connect and thrive in a short segment of Leonard Cohen’s timeline. The song’s title refers to Suzanne Verdal, who at the time was a dancer in Montreal
and happily married when Cohen first laid eyes on her. The Canadian poet had received a great deal of
attention after his poem depicting Suzanne became public, so he decided to further elevate the meaning
with music, which assisted his crossover into songwriting. The song describes a spiritual bond between
Cohen and Verdal, but also a highly passionate yet platonic relationship that was based in mysterious emotions and philosophical discussions. In the summer of 1965, her loft along the St. Lawrence River was their
refuge, their sanctuary. Suzanne awakens things in Cohen, enlightens him in ways he hadn’t imagined. It
was she who ultimately created the symbiotic relationship that they both needed at the time.
Vince Peterson, who has been a frequent composer and arranger for Chanticleer, has, in this setting, created a ritualistic and ceremonious processional to the “river.” He employs the Mixolydian scale, which utilizes a lowered seventh scale degree. Not only does this underline the sense of timelessness in the words
(from the present-day Suzanne to the historical and spiritual Jesus, “walking on the water”), but also
creates a heightened musical sense of longing and anticipation.
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river,
You can hear the boats go by you can spend the night beside her,
And you know that she’s half crazy but that’s why you wanna be there,
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China,
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her,
Then she gets you on her wavelength and she lets the river answer,
That you’ve always been her lover.
And you want to travel with her,
And you want to travel blind,
And you know that she will trust you,
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.
And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water,
And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower,
And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him,
He said “all men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them,”
But he himself was broken, long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human, he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone.
And you want to travel with him,
And you want to travel blind,
And you think maybe you’ll trust him,
For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.
Now Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river,
She is wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters,
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor,
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers,
There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning,
They are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever,
While Suzanne holds the mirror.
And you want to travel with her,
And you want to travel blind,
And you know that you can trust her,
For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind.
How I Got Over - Clara Ward (1924-1973)/Bridge over Troubled Waters - Paul Simon (b. 1941), arr. Brian Hinman
Throughout his long career, Paul Simon has periodically injected a gospel music influence into his songwriting. Released in 1970, Bridge Over Troubled Water drew its spark of inception from a line sung by the Reverend Claude Jeter, a member of the old gospel quartet The Swan Silvertones.
We have decided to embrace the gospel roots of Bridge and combined the piece with gospel great Clara
Ward’s How I Got Over, a song written in 1951 that has been performed by a number of gospel quartets like
those that Simon may also have been listening to, including the Swan Silvertones. Clara Ward showed her
own appreciation of Simon’s work by recording a version of Bridge Over Troubled Water only a year after it
was released.
Bridge Over Troubled Water
How I Got Over
When you’re weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I’ll dry them all (all)
I’m on your side, oh, when times get rough
And friends just can’t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
How I got over,
how I got over,
my soul looks back and wonders
how I got over.
Soon as I can see Jesus (oh yes),
the Man that made me free (oh yes),
the Man that bled and suffered (oh yes),
and died for you and me (oh yes).
When you’re down and out
When you’re on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you
I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me downSail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
I thank Him because He taught me (oh yes),
I thank Him because He brought me (oh yes),
I thank Him because He kept me (oh yes),
thank Him ‘cause He never left me (oh yes).
Thank Him for the Holy Bible (oh yes),
thank Him for good ole revival (oh yes),
thank Him for heavenly vision (oh yes),
thank Him for old time religion (oh yes).
I’m gonna to sing (hallelujah)
You know I’m gonna shout (troubles over);
well I thank Him for all He’s done for me.
I’m gonna to wear a diadem (oh yes),
in the new Jerusalem (oh yes).
Gonna to walk the streets of gold (oh yes),
in the homeland for the soul (oh yes).
Gonna view the host in white (oh yes)
Both day and night (oh yes).
Coming up from every nation (oh yes),
on the way to the great coronation (oh yes).
Coming from the north, south,
east, and west, (oh yes),
on the way to the land of the rest (oh yes).
I’m gonna join the heavenly choir (oh yes),
gonna sing and never get tired (oh yes).
Hallelujah – Cohen, arr. Peterson
As for Leonard Cohen’s much-loved Hallelujah, the words of the arranger speak eloquently for themselves:
“When Leonard Cohen wrote this piece, he was already in a later chapter of his career. Record executives
didn’t pay much attention to it. One audio engineer recounted that he had come into the recording studio
with over 30 possible verses written for the song and the process was quite long for finding which of those
verses would make it into the recording. It took me a very long time to meet Cohen where he was in his
mind writing this song. For me, it’s the most SACRED, secular song I’ve heard. The way that we’re used to
hearing it (Rufus Wainwright etc.) is so far away from where he was when he conceived it. It took several
days to find the ‘secret chord’ which is both the sound of David’s harp ‘pleasing the Lord’ as well as the
‘broken Hallelujah’ of a washed up songwriter who fell in love with an idea (either David watching Bathsheba bathing on the roof or Cohen feeling alone and isolated at this dead juncture of his career, with which
he was equally in love). The ‘Hallelujahs’ echo through the halls of time. The arrangement ends with Cohen
speaking directly to us in the most vulnerable hymn tone: ‘I did my best, it wasn’t much…and even though
it all went wrong, I’ll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah,’ a reconciliation between the baffled King, and God.” –Vince Peterson
Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don’t even know the name
But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?
There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah...
Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah – Traditional Appalachian Chant
American song reflects its geography and its histories; it is not a singular path nor a story of a single people, but instead is a flowing, ever-evolving stream of peoples and stories that weave together much like
the tributaries of, say, the “wide Missouri.” And like that river, it is broad, awe-inspiring, and always changing in its course. American song, too, is like the American landscape: it can be rugged like the Rockies, contemplative and reverent like the swatch of colors painted across the Blue Ridge, kinetically rhythmic like
the trains on their rails as they run into Chicago, or serenely introspective like the waves that wash ashore
on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Like Montana’s “Big Sky,” American song has a breadth of horizon
that seems to have no limiting boundary.
In its traditional form, Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah was and still is a popular hymn sung widely throughout the world. It first appeared in a hymnal published by William Williams in Bristol, England in 1745. Here,
the original text by Williams is set to a plaintive traditional Appalachian melody.
Guide me O thou great Jehovah
Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak, but thou art mighty,
Hold me with thy pow’rful hand.
Bread of Heaven, feed me ‘til I want no more.
Open now the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing stream doth flow;
Let the fiery, cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through.
Strong deliv’rer, be thou still my strength and shield.