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THE GOLDEN AGE OF POLYPHONY
Renaissance Music from the Library of Congress Collection

Motet, Benedicta es, celorum regina, 6vv
Introitus, Requiem, 3vv
Gloria, Missa Sine nomine, 6vv
Motet, Regina caeli, 5vv
Motet, O sacrum convivium, 5vv
Agnus Dei, Missa Malheur me bat, 6vv

Josquin Desprez (ca. 1451-1521)
Johannes Ockeghem (ca. 1410-1497)
Pierluigi Giovanni da Palestrina (ca. 1525-1594)
Orlande de Lassus (1532-1594)
Andrea Gabrieli (1532-1585)
Josquin Desprez

Intermission

Motet, Preter rerum seriem, 6vv
Motet, Ave verum corpus, 6vv
Gloria, Missa L’homme armé sexti toni, 4vv
Hymn, Vexilla regis prodeunt, 4vv
Motet, Exultavit cor meum, 6vv
Agnus Dei, Missa L’homme armé sexti toni, 6vv

Josquin Desprez
Orlande de Lassus
Josquin Desprez
Tomás Luis de Victoria (1548-1611)
Giovanni Gabrieli (1554-1612)
Josquin Desprez

 

Pomerium

Martha Cluver, Melissa Fogarty, Sarah Hawkey, Chloe Holgate, Michele Kennedy – sopranos
Michèle Eaton – mezzo-soprano
Robert Isaacs – countertenor
Nathaniel Adams, Neil Farrell, Peter Gruett, Michael Steinberger, Christopher Preston Thompson – tenors
Patrick Fennig, Thomas McCargar – baritones
Kurt-Owen Richards, Peter Stewart – basses

Commentary on the Program

by Alexander Blachly

  Among the many treasures in the music collection of the Library of Congress are printed partbooks containing sixteenth-century Masses, motets, and madrigals, the sources for some of the greatest musical works of the “golden age of polyphony.” Today’s concert focuses on choral works preserved in this collection, featuring music by Josquin Desprez, Palestrina, Lassus, Andrea Gabrieli, and Victoria, with one fifteenth-century work (the introit from Ockeghem’s Requiem Mass) as an example of what came before, as well as one work from the early seventeenth century (Giovanni Gabrieli’s motet Exultavit cor meum) as witness to what came after.

  The first music printed from movable type dates from 1501. Following the lead of Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice, who pioneered the process, printers quickly set up music presses in France and Germany as well as in other cities in Italy. Instead of the large “choirbook format” of fifteenth-century music books that an entire choir could sing from, the printed books were small and limited to individual voice parts. Thus, a music print from the sixteenth century normally included between four and eight oblong partbooks, each one labeled by range, e.g., “Cantus,” “Altus,” “Tenor,” “Bassus,” with additional voices identified as “Quintus,” “Sextus,” etc.

  The single most prominent feature in sixteenth-century polyphony, evident in nearly every musical genre, is “pervading imitation,” a style of composition in which one voice follows another, singing the same melodic motif or fragment, but normally starting on a different pitch. As one listens, it becomes apparent that all the voices in the ensemble participate in the imitative process. As a result, imitative polyphony achieves a sonic depth akin to the visual depth in contemporaneous paintings with vanishing-point perspective. When judged by all the polyphonic music in the Western tradition, imitative polyphony statistically represents an unusual style of music, though it was copied from time to time by such later composers as Bach, Handel, Mozart, and Beethoven. Most music from before the sixteenth century had been hierarchical, with faster motion in the top voice(s), supported from below by notes in slower motion. Music from after the sixteenth century, too, tended to be non-homogeneous, nearly always featuring a single melody or duet accompanied by instrumental harmonic support. Unlike most later music, polyphony from the Golden Age could be and often was performed without instruments.

  The earliest piece in today’s program is the introit from Ockeghem’s Requiem Mass. The plaintive quality of the simple three-voice texture results from the sound of the Lydian mode (final on F with many B-naturals) and the archaic double-leading-tone cadences. One becomes aware of Ockeghem’s trademark harmonic ambiguity almost immediately.

  Next chronologically are the pieces by Josquin Desprez, whom Martin Luther admired above all other composers, famously quipping that Josquin “could make the notes do as he wished, whereas others had to do what the notes required.” The two imposing six-voice motets that start each half of our program, Benedicta es, celorum regina and Preter rerum seriem, most likely date from Josquin’s time as a member of the papal choir in the Sistine Chapel in the 1490s, where monumentalism was the preferred style in all the arts. The Missa L’homme armé sexti toni (Mass based on the “L’homme armé” tune in the sixth tone) shows Josquin at the top of his form, writing masterful sequences and canons. Petrucci printed this work in his first volume of Josquin Masses in 1502. Agnus III ends the Mass with fireworks, expanding to six voices, with two two-voice canons at the minim above a slow-moving forward-backward canon in the lower voices (where one of the lower voices slowly sings the first half of the “L’homme armé” melody backwards in long notes, while the other lower voice slowly sings the second half of the melody forwards at the same time).

  Petrucci printed the Missa Malheur me bat in his second volume of Josquin Masses of 1505. It, too, displays extraordinary contrapuntal artifice. Agnus II features a canon at the semibreve for two voices at the second (one voice begins on D, the other on E, singing the same melodies in a close chase). The canon intensifies when it shifts into triplets. Agnus III again ends its Mass with fireworks, expanding to six voices, again with two two-voice canons at the minim accompanying the other voices, which slowly sing the melody and countermelody of the original “Malheur me bat” chanson.

  Palestrina, Lassus, and Andrea Gabrieli were almost exact contemporaries, each a master of contrapuntal suavité. If Gabrieli’s style seems less arresting, it is only because Palestrina’s magisterial transcendence and Lassus’s rhetorical energy overshadowed all others’ efforts. The Kyrie and Gloria of Palestrina’s six-voice Missa Sine nomine (“without a name,” meaning that its motet or chanson model, if there was one, is not known) deserve special notice as works that Johann Sebastian Bach performed in Leipzig in the eighteenth century, supplying them with a figured bass for continuo instruments.

  Victoria mastered his art during twenty-two years as singer and organist in various churches in Rome but spent the last twenty-four years of his life first as choirmaster, then as organist, in his native Spain at the royal convent in Madrid. Although his most most prolific years were in Rome, where it is thought he knew and may have studied with Palestrina, Victoria never relinquished the affective harmonies of his Spanish heritage.

  The latest piece in our program is by Giovanni Gabrieli, nephew of Andrea and like him a musician in Venice at St. Mark’s Cathedral. For performance from the balconies overlooking St. Mark’s main crossing he composed many works for double and triple choirs, with singers often accompanied by organs, cornetti, and sackbuts. Exultavit cor meum, from a collection printed in 1612, is for a single six-voice choir. Even when sung a cappella, it reveals a quasi-instrumental quality because of its many fast repeating notes and an advanced harmonic language, where voices moving toward cadences sometimes collide. Though some remnants of the sixteenth-century (from now on known as the “stile antico”) survive, Gabrieli’s music belongs stylistically to a new era that capitalized on the emerging language of functional harmony and idiomatic writing for instruments.

 Posted by at 2:23 am

October 31, 2015 – 2:00 pm at Library of Congress, Washington, DC

 

 

THE GOLDEN AGE OF POLYPHONY

Motet, Benedicta es, celorum regina, 6vv
Introitus, Requiem, 3vv
Gloria, Missa Sine nomine, 6vv
Motet, Regina caeli, 5vv
Motet, O sacrum convivium, 5vv
Agnus Dei, Missa Malheur me bat, 6vv

Josquin Desprez (ca. 1451-1521)
Johannes Ockeghem (ca. 1410-1497)
Pierluigi Giovanni da Palestrina (ca. 1525-1594)
Orlande de Lassus (1532-1594)
Andrea Gabrieli (1532-1585)
Josquin Desprez

Intermission

Motet, Preter rerum seriem, 6vv
Motet, Ave verum corpus, 6vv
Gloria, Missa L’homme armé sexti toni, 4vv
Hymn, Vexilla regis prodeunt, 4vv
Motet, Exultavit cor meum, 6vv
Agnus Dei, Missa L’homme armé sexti toni, 6vv

Josquin Desprez
Orlande de Lassus
Josquin Desprez
Tomás Luis de Victoria (1548-1611)
Giovanni Gabrieli (1554-1612)
Josquin Desprez

 

Pomerium

Kristina Boerger, Martha Cluver, Melissa Fogarty, Michele Kennedy, Dominique Surh – sopranos
Luthien Brackett – mezzo-soprano
Neil Farrell, Peter Gruett, Michael Steinberger, Christopher Preston Thompson – tenors
Jeffrey Johnson, Thomas McCargar – baritones
Kurt-Owen Richards, Peter Stewart – basses

Commentary on the Program

by Alexander Blachly

Among the many treasures in the music collection of the Library of Congress are printed partbooks containing sixteenth-century Masses, motets, and madrigals, the sources for some of the greatest musical works of the “golden age of polyphony.” Today’s concert focuses on choral works preserved in this collection, featuring music by Josquin Desprez, Palestrina, Lassus, Andrea Gabrieli, and Victoria, with one fifteenth-century work (the introit from Ockeghem’s Requiem Mass) as an example of what came before, as well as one work from the early seventeenth century (Giovanni Gabrieli’s motet Exultavit cor meum) as witness to what came after. The majority of pieces in the program are transmitted in books on display today in the Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Auditorium.

The first music printed from movable type dates from 1501. Following the lead of Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice, who pioneered the process, printers quickly set up music presses in France and Germany as well as in other cities in Italy. Instead of the large “choirbook format” of fifteenth-century music books that an entire choir could sing from, the printed books were small and limited to individual voice parts. Thus, a music print from the sixteenth century normally included between four and eight oblong partbooks, each one labeled by range, e.g., “Cantus,” “Altus,” “Tenor,” “Bassus,” with additional voices identified as “Quintus,” “Sextus,” etc.

The single most prominent feature in sixteenth-century polyphony, evident in nearly every musical genre, is “pervasive imitation,” a style of composition in which one voice follows another, singing the same melodic motif or fragment, but normally starting on a different pitch. As one listens, it becomes apparent that all the voices in the ensemble participate in the imitative process. As a result, imitative polyphony achieves a sonic depth akin to the visual depth in contemporaneous paintings with vanishing-point perspective. When judged by all the polyphonic music in the Western tradition, imitative polyphony statistically represents an unusual style of music, though it was copied from time to time by such later composers as Bach, Handel, Mozart, and Beethoven. Most music from before the sixteenth century had been hierarchical, with faster motion in the top voice(s), supported from below by notes in slower motion. Music from after the sixteenth century, too, tended to be non-homogeneous, nearly always featuring a single melody or duet accompanied by instrumental harmonic support. Unlike most later music, polyphony from the golden age could be and often was performed without instruments.

The earliest piece in today’s program is the introit from Ockeghem’s Requiem Mass. The plaintive quality of the simple three-voice texture results from the sound of the Lydian mode (final on F with many B-naturals) and the archaic double-leading-tone cadences. One becomes aware of Ockeghem’s trademark harmonic ambiguity almost immediately.

Next chronologically are the pieces by Josquin Desprez, whom Martin Luther admired above all other composers, famously quipping that Josquin “could make the notes do as he wished, whereas others had to do what the notes required.” The two imposing six-voice motets that start each half of our program, Benedicta es, celorum regina and Preter rerum seriem, most likely date from Josquin’s time as a member of the papal choir in the Sistine Chapel in the 1490s, where monumentalism was the preferred style in all the arts. The Missa L’homme armé sexti toni (Mass based on the “L’homme armé” tune in the sixth tone) shows Josquin at the top of his form, writing masterful sequences and canons. Petrucci printed this work in his first volume of Josquin Masses in 1502. Agnus III ends the Mass with fireworks, expanding to six voices, with two two-voice canons at the minim above a slow-moving forward-backward canon in the lower voices (where one of the lower voices slowly sings the first half of the “L’homme armé” melody backwards in long notes, while the other lower voice slowly sings the second half of the melody forwards at the same time).

Petrucci printed the Missa Malheur me bat in his second volume of Josquin Masses of 1505. It, too, displays extraordinary contrapuntal artifice. Agnus II features a canon at the semibreve for two voices at the second (one voice begins on D, the other on E, singing the same melodies in a close chase). The canon intensifies when it shifts into triplets. Agnus III again ends its Mass with fireworks, expanding to six voices, again with two two-voice canons at the minim accompanying the other voices, which slowly sing the melody and countermelody of the original “Malheur me bat” chanson.

Palestrina, Lassus, and Andrea Gabrieli were almost exact contemporaries, each a master of contrapuntal suavité. If Gabrieli’s style seems less arresting, it is only because Palestrina’s magisterial transcendence and Lassus’s rhetorical energy overshadowed all others’ efforts. The Kyrie and Gloria of Palestrina’s six-voice Missa Sine nomine (“without a name,” meaning that its motet or chanson model, if there was one, is not known) deserve special notice as works that Johann Sebastian Bach performed in Leipzig in the eighteenth century, supplying them with a figured bass for continuo instruments.

Victoria mastered his art during twenty-two years as singer and organist in various churches in Rome but spent the last twenty-four years of his life first as choirmaster, then as organist, in his native Spain at the royal convent in Madrid. Although his most most prolific years were in Rome, where it is thought he knew and may have studied with Palestrina, Victoria never relinquished the affective harmonies of his Spanish heritage.

The latest piece in our program is by Giovanni Gabrieli, nephew of Andrea and like him a musician in Venice at St. Mark’s Cathedral. For performance from the balconies overlooking St. Mark’s main crossing he composed many works for double and triple choirs, with singers often accompanied by organs, cornetti, and sackbuts. Exultavit cor meum, from a collection printed in 1612, is for a single six-voice choir. Even when sung a cappella, it reveals a quasi-instrumental quality because of its many fast repeating notes and an advanced harmonic language, where voices moving toward cadences sometimes collide. Though some remnants of the sixteenth-century (from now on known as the “stile antico”) survive, Gabrieli’s music belongs stylistically to a new era that capitalized on the emerging language of functional harmony and idiomatic writing for instruments.

 Posted by at 3:55 pm

November 22, 2014 J. Paul Getty Museum

 

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Program

Motet: Surrexit pastor, 6vv

Motet: Circumdederunt me, 5vv

Motet: Tota pulchra es Maria, 6vv

Requiem aeternum, Officium pro defunctis, 6vv
Versa est in luctum, Officium pro defunctis, 6vv

Motet: Ave virgo sanctissima, 5vv

Motet: Laudate Dominum, 8vv

Tomás Luis de Victoria (ca. 1540-1611)

Crist&#243bal de Morales (1500-1553)

Francisco Guerrero (1528-1599)

Tomás Luis de Victoria
Tomás Luis de Victoria

Francisco Guerrero

Joan Pau Pujol (1570-1626)

Intermission


Motet: Ardens est cor meum, 6vv

Hymn: Ave maris stella, 4vv

Kyrie, Missa Ave maris stella, 4vv
Gloria, Missa Ave maris stella, 4vv

Sanctus, Missa L’homme armé, 4vv

Agnus Dei, Missa Ave virgo sanctissima, 7vv

Motet: Conceptio tua, 8vv

Tomás Luis de Victoria

Tomás Luis de Victoria

Tomás Luis de Victoria
Tomás Luis de Victoria

Francisco Guerrero

Géry de Ghersem (1582-1643)

Sebastián López de Velasco (1584-1659)

 

Pomerium

 Kristina Boerger, Martha Cluver, Melissa Fogarty,
Michele Kennedy, Dominique Surh – 
sopranos
Silvie Jensen – mezzo-soprano
Neil Farrell, Peter Gruett, Michael Steinberger, Christopher Preston Thompson – tenors
Jeffrey Johnson, Thomas McCargar – baritones
Kurt-Owen Richards, Peter Stewart – basses

Commentary on the Program

by Alexander Blachly

    Today’s concert is designed as a musical complement to Rubens’s oil paintings on the Triumph of the Eucharist and the tapestries based on them (ca. 1626-33) now on exhibit at the Getty Museum. Since the tapestries were created specifically for the church of the Monasterio de las Descalzas Reales (Convent of the Royal Barefoot Nuns), our musical program also focuses on the Convento church, where Spain’s most famous Renaissance composer, Tomás Luis de Victoria (ca. 1540-1611), was choirmaster-organist for the last 24 years of his life and where he is buried. In addition to music by Victoria himself, we present works by his older colleague and friend Francisco Guerrero (1528-1599), one work by the most famous Spanish composer of the previous generation, Cristóbal de Morales (1500-1553), and one work by the Netherlander Géry de Ghersem (1582-1643), written when Ghersem lived Madrid in the 1580s and ‘90s. We can imagine Victoria presenting all of these pieces in what became during his tenure in the Convento church one of the great centers of sacred music in Spain. The psalm setting by Joan Pau Pujol of Barcelona (1570-1626) heard today just before intermission probably dates from the early 1620s; if it was performed in the Descalzas church, this may first have been when Sebastián López de Velasco, whose motet Conceptio tea ends our program, directed music there from 1619 to 1636, exactly when the Rubens tapestries were first put on display.

    The Monasterio de las Descalzas Reales was founded in 1557 by Joanna of Austria (i.e., Joanna of Habsburg), a person of great wealth and social stature: she was the daughter of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and Isabel of Portugal, widow of prince João III of Portugal, mother of Don Sebastian, future king of Portugal, sister of Philip II (briefly the husband of Queen Mary Tudor and after 1556 king of Spain), and sister of María of Austria, spouse of archduke Maximilian II (later Holy Roman Emperor). The widowed Joanna lived in the Convent until her death in 1573. After Maximilian II died in 1576, the widowed María (now both archduchess and empress and mother of 16 children) lived in the Convent until her death in 1603.

    The Convent belonged to the Order of the Nuns of Poor Clare (the sister of St. Francis) and attracted primarily unmarried noblewomen who brought with them their dowries. As a result, it quickly became immensely wealthy, though its 33 strictly cloistered nuns led lives of personal poverty. Prior to 1557 the building had been the palace of Charles V and Isabel, and parts of the interior to this day exhibit the splendor one might expect of such a building. Among its treasures are fragments from Christ’s cross, bones of St. Sebastian, Titian’s Caesar’s Money, Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s Adoration of the Magi, and, as seen in the current exhibition at the Getty Museum, Peter Paul Rubens’s series of large-scale tapestries on the Triumph of the Eucharist, which were hung in the chapel during occasions in the church year that focused on the Eucharist, such as the feast of Good Friday and the Octave of Corpus Christi.

    After 22 years in Rome, Tomás Luis de Victoria returned to his homeland in 1587 to assume the position of maestro de capilla of the church of the Descalzas Reales. So appealing was his situation in the convent that no cathedral could lure him away, though several tried. His principal patron was empress María, and it was for her funeral in 1603 that he wrote his famous six-voice Requiem Mass (Officium defunctorum in obitu et obsequiis sacra imperatricis), two movements of which are heard in the first half of today’s program. After 1604 and until his death in 1611, he relinquished the demanding job of directing the choir, limiting his role to that of organist.

    When Victoria arrived in Madrid in 1587, the Convent choir consisted of 12 priests, who were also skilled singers, and four boys. Later, the number of boys was increased to six. In Rome Victoria had held a number of important posts, including those of singer and organist at S Maria di Monserrato for five years beginning in 1568; maestro di cappella at the Jesuit Collegio Germanico from 1573 to 1577, during which time he became a priest (1575); and chaplain at S Girolamo della Carità from 1578 to 1585. He longed, however, to return to his homeland, and made this wish explicit in the introduction to his second book of Masses (1583), which he dedicated to Philip II. The king and his sister María responded by arranging the post at the Convent. During the years he lived in Madrid from 1587 to 1611, Victoria, who had published most of his output while in Rome, still managed to bring out a book of Masses in 1592, a book of Masses, Magnificat settings, motets, and psalms in 1600, and in 1605 the aforementioned Officium pro defunctis for the 1603 funeral of empress María.

    Like Victoria, Cristóbal de Morales spent important years of his career in Rome, following appointments as organist in Seville in 1522, maestro de capilla in Avila Cathedral beginning in 1526, and maestro de capilla at Plasencia in 1529. He joined the papal chapel in Rome in 1535 for a tenure of ten years. In 1545, Morales accepted the appointment of maestro de capilla at the cathedral of Toledo, but because of poor health he resigned the position two years later to serve as the maestro de capilla of the duke of Arcos at Marchena. In 1551 he moved again, this time to serve as maestro de capilla at the cathedral of Málaga. His many moves contrast markedly with the job stability Victoria exhibited at the Convento chapel from 1587 to 1611 but seem in keeping with Victoria’s peripatetic career in Italy beginning ten years after Morales’s death.

    Morales’s strong reputation continued to grow throughout the later sixteenth century. In 1559, six years after his death, his motet Circumdederunt me heard in today’s program was sung in Mexico City for a commemorative service for Charles V (1500-1558), and for that reason it will always be associated with the emperor.

    Francisco Guerrero studied with Morales, most likely in Toledo, but taught himself to play the vihuela, harp, cornetto, and organ. On the recommendation of Morales he became maestro de capilla of Jaén Cathedral in 1546 at the age of 17, later taking a position as singer in Seville Cathedral in 1549. A few years later he began publishing music in Seville, Venice, Paris, and Leuven. In 1557 he presented a collection of motets to emperor Charles V, who by then had retired to a monastery in Yuste. In 1574, after 23 years as assistant maestro, he became principal maestro de capilla at Seville in 1574. He spent a year’s leave in 1581 in Rome and in 1588 traveled to Venice and the Holy Land. Robbed by pirates on the way back, he was thrown into debtors’ prison but then released when the Seville Cathedral chapter paid his creditors. After writing a popular account of his travels, he was planning a second trip to the Holy Land when he died of the plague in 1599. Together with Morales and Victoria, Guerrero represents an acme of achievement in the style of sixteenth-century sacred music known as the ars perfecta, the so-called Golden Age of Polyphony. He also won fame for his popular polyphonic villancicos in Spanish. His skill as a contrapuntist is most evident in today’s program in his motet Ave virgo sanctissima, with its exact canon at the unison for the top two voices. The appeal of this work is evident in the challenge it presented to the Netherlander Géry de Ghersem, who while living in Madrid wrote a Mass based on it, expanding the number of voices from five to seven and the number of canonic voices from two to three.

    Joan Pau Pujol, organist and composer from Barcelona, became assistant maestro of Barcelona Cathedral in 1593 at the age of 23. Half a year later he was the principal maestro de capilla at Tarragona Cathedral for three months before leaving for the same position at Zaragoza, where he remained until 1612, having become a priest in 1600. From 1612 until his death fourteen years later he was back in Barcelona as maestro de capilla of Barcelona Cathedral, where he specialized in polychoral psalm settings like the one heard in today’s program. Noting the brilliance with which this work projects the words, and its colorful effects skillfully achieved, we wonder at the negative judgment of Pujol’s music published in 1913 by the French writer Henri Collet. He was disappointed in the composer’s lack of “mysticism,” a negative judgment repeated by others until recently.

    In 1586 the prolific composer Géry de Ghersem was recruited to Madrid from Flanders at the age of thirteen to sing in the Capilla Flamenca, the famed “Flemish Choir” (comprised of Flemish and French singers and composers) started by Charles V and inherited by Philip II. In Madrid Ghersem would have learned composition from Philippe Rogier, who became director of music at Philip II’s court in 1582. Before he died in 1596, Rogier specified in his will that Ghersem should publish five of his Masses. This collection, in which Ghersem included his own seven-voice Missa Ave virgo sanctissima, appeared in 1598, financed by Philip II. It still survives. We can well imagine that Philip saw to it that these works, whose publication he had paid for, would be performed by the greatest musical establishment in Spain at the time, Victoria’s choir in the Descalzas Reales church. Of Ghersem’s 170 villancicos, seven Masses, 20 motets, other sacred works, 15 chansons, and some Spanish songs, only the Missa Ave virgo sanctissima survives complete, surely one of the greatest losses of music from a single composer during the Renaissance—for Ghersem was a composer of exceptional merit, as we hear today in the Agnus Dei from his seven-voice Missa Ave virgo sanctissima.

    Together, the works on today’s program provide a soundscape very much like the one heard by those who viewed the Rubens tapestries during Masses in the convent church in the seventeenth century. That soundscape may not have included precisely these pieces, but it was certainly defined by similar music by most if not all of the same composers. Worshipers who were surrounded by the tapestries during services in the convent would have heard later music as well, especially as the seventeenth century wore on, but we can fairly assume that music by the great Spanish composers of the sixteenth century, as well as by composers of the early seventeenth century like Joan Pau Pujol and Sebastián López de Velasco, remained staples in the Convento church repertoire for many decades, defining that institution’s character. Today’s visitors to the Getty Museum, hearing this concert after having viewed the Rubens tapestries, may well sense that they have been transported in time to early seventeenth-century Madrid, where they experience the best art and music Spain at that time could offer its most fortunate citizens.

 Posted by at 4:55 am

February 27, 2013

 

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Program

Audi benigne conditor, (Hymn for Lent I)

Invocabit me, (Lent I introit)

Super flumina Babylonis, (Motet)

Angelis suis, (Lent I Gradual)

In ieiunio et fletu, (Responsory)

Derelinquit impius, (Responsory)

Stabat mater, (Sequence for Lenten Season)

Guillaume Du Fay (ca. 1397-1474)

York Graduale (Oxford, MS b. 5 15th cent)

G. P. da Palestrina (1525-1594)

York Graduale

Thomas Tallis (1505-1585)

Thomas Tallis

Josquin Desprez (ca. 1450-1521)

Intermission

Audi, benigne conditor, (Motet for Lent)

Emendemus in melius, (Matins Responsory for Lent I)

Christe qui lux es et dies, (Hymn)

Lamentationes Ieremiae,  (Secunda pars)

O vos omnes,  (Motet)

Timor et tremor, (Motet)

Orlande de Lassus (1532-1594)

William Byrd (1540-1623)

William Byrd

Robert White (1538-1574)

Alfonso Ferrabosco (1543-1588)

Orlande de Lassus

 

Pomerium

 Elizabeth Baber, Kristina Boerger, Melissa Fogarty,
Michele Kennedy, Dominique Surh – sopranos
Luthien Brackett – mezzo-soprano
Robert Isaacs – countertenor
Thom Baker, Neil Farrell, Michael Steinberger – tenors
Jeffrey Johnson, Thomas McCargar – baritones
Kurt-Owen Richards – bass

Commentary on the Program

by Alexander Blachly

Lent was originally a time of preparation for the catechumens (those aspiring to be Christians) preceding their confirmation on Easter Sunday. Like Advent, the period before Easter serves as a penitential season of introspection, confession, and reconciliation, when festive music gives way to more somber sounds. The austerity of Lenten penitence finds musical expression in this evening’s program in Du Fay’s early Renaissance setting of the great Lenten hymn Audi, benigne conditor. The words, once attributed to Pope Gregory the Great (reigned 590-604), pray that those fasting over forty days might enjoy the rewards of outward abstinence: the Maker’s forgiveness of sin within. Du Fay’s music alternates odd verses sung to the traditional Gregorian chant melody with even verses sung in a three-part harmonization of the chant melody transformed by paraphrase (heard in the top voice). Like most Latin hymns, Audi, benigne conditor ends with a doxology stanza praising the Trinity.

The ancient Gregorian chant introit for the First Sunday of Lent is cast in the melodically dark Tone 8. The source of the version heard here is a fifteenth-century book of Mass chants now in the Bodleian Library in Oxford (Mus. Ms. Lat. Liturg. b. 5), a book that transmits the rite of York, which, while nearly identical with the Roman rite for most pieces, exhibits occasional local variants. Also from Lat. Liturg. b. 5 comes the fourth item in our program, the gradual Angelis suis from the same Mass. Angelis suis shares with the Easter gradual Haec dies and a number of other graduals some notable melodic turns of phrase that are among the highlights of the Gregorian repertoire.

Though no Alleluia or Gloria in excelsis sounds in church during Lent, the season’s music expresses in its memorable melodies and harmonies the intensity of the penitential season. Indeed, with the exception of the opening Du Fay hymn, the polyphonic works on our program reveal that the “somber” music of Lent in the later Renaissance was in fact often highly charged harmonically. The theme of exile expressed in the memorable words of Super flumina Babylonis from Psalm 136 (Ps. 137 in the Protestant psalter) is understood in Lent to refer to the Fall of Man and man’s subsequent exile from God. Even Palestrina, who normally shunned coloristic effects in favor of a transcendent calm, sets Super flumina with some melodies outlining diminished intervals and with harmonies that incorporate an occasional telling dissonance to express the Psalm’s themes of loss and deprivation.

Included in the collection Tallis and Byrd published jointly in 1575 with a monopoly from Queen Elizabeth are the two motets by Tallis that follow—settings of responsory texts from the Matins service of Lent I. Thought to be among Tallis’s last compositions, In ieiunio et fletu (text from Joel 2) and Derelinquit impius (text from Isaiah) both show the acknowledged master experimenting with new means of expression at the end of his career. In ieiunio et fletu opens with each of the five voices in turn singing the motif associated with the words “In ieiunio et fletu,” but with each voice entering on a different note of the scale—and with the final voice entering on a note that is not even in the scale defined by the first four voices. Tallis’s highly chromatic and unsettled music seems to have no tonal anchor, as though to express the anxiety of Joel’s “priests,” who argue desperately for God to have mercy on his people, who are his inheritance. Derelinquit impius, similarly, opens with five statements of the motif associated with “Derelinquit impius viam suam,” each starting on a different note of the scale. Passing harmonies that include F-sharp one moment, F-natural a moment later, C-sharp immediatey followed by C-natural, G-sharp vying with G-natural, prevent the music from settling into a single harmonic home; the climax comes at the end when a series of overlapping descending scales continue, and increase, the “multi-tonal” effect established earlier, which is not so different from the simultaneous sounding of different keys in some of Stravinsky’s music of nearly four centuries later.

Josquin’s five-voice Stabat mater was judged during his lifetime to be one of his greatest works. It features prominently in the magnificent musical anthology known as the Chigi manuscript (Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Chigi C VIII 234, copied by the Alamire workshop ca. 1501); it is also found in an anthology copied in the same scriptorium ca. 1515 (Brussels, Bibliotèque royale, MS 215-216) of music for the newly authorized feast of the Seven Sorrows—a feast that until 1903 was celebrated on the Saturday before Passion Sunday. Liturgically, the Stabat mater text still figures prominently in both Lenten and Seven Sorrows (now September 15) devotions. To serve as an anchor voice, or cantus firmus, for his setting, Josquin chose the tenor of a French chanson by Gilles Binchois (ca. 1400-1460), Comme femme desconfortée, sounding in slow motion. By situating Binchois’s greatly augmented voice, singing its French words, in the middle of four other voices singing the Stabat mater poem, often in declamatory fashion, Josquin sacralized the French words, which  are now to be understood as the words not of a bereaved lover but of the anguished Virgin Mary: “Like a woman in agony, distraut above all others, I am one who has no further hope in life and cannot be consoled.” The particular genius of Josquin’s setting is that he makes each change of pitch in the slow-moving cantus firmus appear inevitable, even as he achieves unusually moving harmonic effects to evoke the Virgin’s grief.

INTERMISSION

Lassus sets the same Lenten hymn as Du Fay, Audi, benigne conditor, but now as a motet in two large sections comprising two stanzas each (omitting the doxology Stanza 5). First appearing in print in 1568, Audi, benigne conditor figures among Lassus’s relatively early works (the earliest date from 1555, the latest from 1594). Lassus did not set words carelessly. This motet shares with the composer’s six-voice motet Ave verum corpus harmonies expressive of an intense devotion.

In the jointly edited anthology in which Tallis included his In ieiunio et fletu and Derelinquit impius, Byrd positioned Emendemus in melius as his first motet, which scholar Joseph Kerman takes to be an indication that Byrd thought especially highly of this work. Set almost entirely in homorhythm (chordally), with five voices declaiming the Lenten responsory text simultaneously, Byrd achieves a moving, emotional result by virtue of his exquisite harmonies. Only at the very end do the individual voices speak independently, as they sing the words Libera me (“liberate me”).

Byrd’s unusual setting of the Lenten hymn Christe qui lux es et dies, which survives only in the so-called Dow Partbooks of 1581-88, takes Robert White’s setting of the same hymn as a model. Both composers present the traditional chant melody in an unbroken chain of breves, with all other voices set to the same rhythm, in effect “harmonizing” a chant that is still sung in chant rhythm. Unlike White, Byrd puts the chant melody in the Bassus in the first polyphonic verse, in the Tenor in the next verse, in Contratenor in the verse following, then in Medius, and finally in the top voice, the Superius. As unusual as the procedure are Byrd’s continually surprising harmonies, which one might almost mistake for those of a composer living centuries later.

Robert White was recognized as one of the leading composers in the Chapel Royal during the early years of Elizabeth I’s reign (1558-1603). Though a Catholic, he, like Byrd and Tallis, wrote Anglican sacred music to English words but was also allowed to write motets and Lamentations in Latin. Scholar David Mateer has referred to White’s two settings of Lamentations as “particularly fine,” adding that they “represent a high point of Elizabethan choral music.” The Lamentations heard here, for five voices, survive uniquely in the retrospective anthology copied by Robert Dow in the 1580s, well after White’s death. In the Contratenor and Tenor partbooks Dow inscribed the following tribute, somewhat garbled in syntax but clear enough in meaning: “Non ita moesta sonant plangentis verba Prophetae, Quam sonat authoris musica moesta mei,” which translates as “Not so sad do the words of the weeping prophet sound [referring to Jeremiah’s Lamentations] As does the music of my author.”

White’s prevailing approach to composition, also adopted by Tallis and Byrd, was to introduce the voices of the choir one after the other in imitation, building up the texture from a single voice to five voices, occasionally with one or more voices briefly echoing one or two others, then to juxtapose these passages of contrapuntal independence with passages in which all the voices sing together in the same rhythm. Josquin Desprez had already mastered this approach at the beginning of the sixteenth century, but the English composers of the second half of the century practiced it with an identifiably national harmonic sensibility, making a virtue of alternating B-flat and B-natural, E-flat and E-natural, F-sharp and F-natural, and C-sharp and C-natural in rapid succession (heard earlier in this program to fine effect in the two motets by Tallis). When the technique involves more than one voice, musicians call the interaction a “false relation.” When it is in a single voice it is regarded as linear chromaticism. The English sound is notable for its harmonic richness, evident also in White’s Lamentations at the changes of tonal center whenever the text moves from one statement to another.

Alfonso Ferrabosco, an Italian by birth, served Queen Elizabeth I as a courtier on and off for sixteen years, beginning in 1562. When he wasn’t in England he is known to have worked for the French royal court and the duke of Savoy and to have spent time in Rome and Bologna. He was highly valued everywhere for his musical skills, but his efforts to navigate between Protestant England (where he was suspected of harboring Catholic sentiments) and the Inquisition in Italy (where he was suspected of being a spy for the English crown) led to a troubled career. The text of O vos omnes, taken from one of the verses in the Lamentations of Jeremiah set by White, is sung as the fifth responsory of Holy Saturday Matins, on which occasion the Old Testament words are understood to be Jesus’ as well.

Orlande de Lassus was the most famous composer in Europe during most of his career and by far the most productive. Only occasionally did he write highly chromatic music, his Timor et tremor of 1564 being one of those occasions—and a notable one at that. The text is a collection of verses from Psalms 55, 57, 61, 71, and 31. When Alfonso Ferrabosco’s setting of the same verses was published in the Sacrae cantiones…de festis praecipuis totius anni (“Sacred Songs…for the Major Feasts of the Whole Year”) by Catharine Gerlach in Nuremberg in 1585, it was one of several motets listed under the heading “Dominica Palmarum et de Passione Domini” (appropriate for Palm Sunday and Passiontide). It may be fair to assume, therefore, that when Lassus’s setting was published in the same city 21 years earlier, it likewise was intended to be sung at the end of Lent.

Though Lassus’s music generally may be said to stand at some remove from the peaceful calm of Palestrina and the other composers of the Roman school, in Timor et tremor the contrast reaches new heights. Lassus was drawn to the Psalms as a source of inspiration all his life, yet the extremity of the emotions in the verses chosen here inspired a work that can only be called Mannerist, in that it enlists exaggeration of Lassus’s usual procedures for greater emotional impact. Throughout this extraordinary motet the voices sing loud, then soft, then loud again as the music veers from one tonal center to another, evoking in turn the sentiments of “fear and trembling,” “dread,” “mercy,” “trust,” and “damnation” (“let me not be confounded”). The climax comes at the end, when the sopranos sing a series of rapid-fire sycopations in their highest range to the words “non confundar,” while the lower voices provide an anchor against the storm-tossed waves above them. This is about as far a cry from Palestrina’s unhurried style as Renaissance sacred music could get in the year 1564. Only with the polyphonic works of such later Mannerists as Giaches de Wert and Carlo Gesualdo would sacred music again reach comparable heights of extroversion.

Tonight’s program shows that the stylistic range in sacred music extending from the early Renaissance (Du Fay’s Audi benigne conditor) to the late Renaissance (Lassus’s Timor et tremor) is considerable. What all the works in question have in common is a commitment to counterpoint, especially imitative counterpoint, where the voice-parts function as truly independent melodies following strict rules for the preparation and resolution of dissonance. The result is complex music that avoids superficiality, that shows endlessly inventive effects achieved within its restrictions, and that because of its prevailingly serious mood seems especially well suited to intensifying liturgical devotion. It is understandable, therefore, why the Renaissance, especially the sixteenth century, has long been known as the Golden Age of Polyphony, referring particularly to the music composed for liturgical enrichment.

 Posted by at 8:18 pm

130227LentenConcertProgram

 

Sacred Music in a Sacred Space Presents

POMERIUM

Alexander Blachly, Director

Timor et tremor:

Renaissance Motets for Lent

7:00 p.m., Wednesday, February 27, 2013

St. Ignatius Loyola  Church, New York, NY

Audi, benigne conditor (Hymn for Lent I)                                                                          Guillaume Du Fay (ca. 1397-1474)

Invocabit me (Lent I Introit)                                                                                    York Graduale (Oxford, 15th cent.)

Super flumina Babylonis (Motet)                                                                                 G. P. da Palestrina (1525-1594)

Angelis suis (Lent I Gradual)                                                                                                                                                 York Graduale

In ieiunio et fletu (Responsory)                                                                                                                                       Thomas Tallis (1505-1585)

Derelinquit impius (Responsory)                                                                                                                                                              Thomas Tallis

Stabat mater (Lenten Sequence)                                                                         Josquin Desprez (ca. 1450-1521)

INTERMISSION

Audi, benigne conditor (Motet for Lent)                                                                               Orlande de Lassus (1532-1594)

Emendemus in melius (Responsory for Lent I)                                                                    William Byrd (1540-1643)

 Christe qui lux es et dies (Hymn)                                                                                                                                                    William Byrd                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Lamentationes Ieremiae                                                                                            Robert White (1538-1574)

O vos omnes                                                                                                                                  Alfonso Ferrabosco (1543-1588)

             Timor et tremor, à6                                                                                                                                                         Orlande de Lassus

 

POMERIUM

Elizabeth Baber, Kristina Boerger, Melissa Fogarty,

Michele Kennedy, Dominique Surh –  sopranos

Luthien Brackett – mezzo-soprano

Robert Isaacs – countertenor

Thom Baker, Neil Farrell, Michael Steinberger – tenors

Jeffrey Johnson, Thomas McCargar – baritones

Kurt-Owen Richards –  bass

 

COMMENTARY ON THE PROGRAM

by Alexander Blachly

Lent was originally a time of preparation for the catechumens (those aspiring to be Christians) preceding their confirmation on Easter Sunday. Like Advent, the period before Easter serves as a penitential season of introspection, confession, and reconciliation, when festive music gives way to more somber sounds. The austerity of Lenten penitence finds musical expression in this evening’s program in Du Fay’s early Renaissance setting of the great Lenten hymn Audi, benigne conditor. The words, once attributed to Pope Gregory the Great (reigned 590-604), pray that those fasting over forty days might enjoy the rewards of outward abstinence: the Maker’s forgiveness of sin within. Du Fay’s music alternates odd verses sung to the traditional Gregorian chant melody with even verses sung in a three-part harmonization of the chant melody transformed by paraphrase (heard in the top voice). Like most Latin hymns, Audi, benigne conditor ends with a doxology stanza praising the Trinity.

The ancient Gregorian chant introit for the First Sunday of Lent is cast in the melodically dark Tone 8. The source of the version heard here is a fifteenth-century book of Mass chants now in the Bodleian Library in Oxford (Mus. Ms. Lat. Liturg. b. 5), a book that transmits the rite of York, which, while nearly identical for most pieces with the Roman rite, exhibits occasional local variants. Also from Lat. Liturg. b. 5 comes the fourth item in our program, the gradual Angelis suis from the same Mass. Angelis suis shares with the Easter gradual Haec dies and a number of other graduals some notable melodic turns of phrase that are among the highlights of the Gregorian repertoire.

Though no Alleluia or Gloria in excelsis sounds in church during Lent, the season’s music expresses in its memorable melodies and harmonies the intensity of the penitential season. Indeed, with the exception of the opening Du Fay hymn, the polyphonic works on our program reveal that the “somber” music of Lent in the later Renaissance was in fact often highly charged harmonically. The theme of exile expressed in the memorable words of Super flumina Babylonis from Psalm 136 (Ps. 137 in the Protestant psalter) is understood in Lent to refer to the Fall of Man and man’s subsequent exile from God. Even Palestrina, who normally shunned coloristic effects in favor of a transcendent calm, sets Super flumina with some melodies outlining diminished intervals and with harmonies that incorporate an occasional telling dissonance to express the Psalm’s themes of loss and deprivation.

Included in the collection Tallis and Byrd published jointly in 1575 with a monopoly from Queen Elizabeth are the two motets by that follow—settings of responsory texts from the Matins service of Lent I. Thought to be among Tallis’s last compositions, In ieiunio et fletu (text from Joel 2) and Derelinquit impius (text from Isaiah) both show the acknowledged master experimenting with new means of expression at the end of his career. In ieiunio et fletu opens with each of the five voices in turn singing the motif associated with the words “In ieiunio et fletu,” but with each voice entering on a different note of the scale—and with the final voice entering on a note that is not even in the scale defined by the first four voices. Tallis’s highly chromatic and unsettled music seems to have no tonal anchor, as though to express the anxiety of Joel’s “priests,” who argue desperately for God to have mercy on his people, who are his inheritance. Derelinquit impius, similarly, opens with five statements of the motif associated with “Derelinquit impius viam suam,” each starting on a different note of the scale. Passing harmonies that include F-sharp one moment, F-natural a moment later, C-sharp immediatey followed by C-natural, G-sharp vying with G-natural, prevent the music from settling into a single harmonic home; the climax comes at the end when a series of overlapping descending scales continue, and increase, the “multi-tonal” effect established earlier, which is not so different from the simultaneous sounding of different keys in some of Stravinsky’s music of nearly four centuries later.

Josquin’s five-voice Stabat mater was judged during his lifetime to be one of his greatest works. It features prominently in the magnificent musical anthology known as the Chigi manuscript (Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Chigi C VIII 234, copied by the Alamire workshop ca. 1501); it is also found in an anthology copied in the same scriptorium ca. 1515 (Brussels, Bibliotèque royale, MS 215-216) of music for the newly authorized feast of the Seven Sorrows—a feast that until 1903 was celebrated on the Saturday before Passion Sunday. Liturgically, the Stabat mater text still figures prominently in both Lenten and Seven Sorrows (now September 15) devotions. To serve as an anchor voice, or cantus firmus, for his setting, Josquin chose the tenor of a French chanson by Gilles Binchois (ca. 1400-1460), Comme femme desconfortée, sounding in slow motion. By situating Binchois’s greatly augmented voice, singing its French words, in the middle of four other voices singing the Stabat mater poem, often in declamatory fashion, Josquin sacralized the French words, which  are now to be understood as the words not of a bereaved lover but of the anguished Virgin Mary: “Like a woman in agony, distraut above all others, I am one who has no further hope in life and cannot be consoled.” The particular genius of Josquin’s setting is that he makes each change of pitch in the slow-moving cantus firmus appear inevitable, even as he achieves unusually moving harmonic effects to evoke the Virgin’s grief.

INTERMISSION

Lassus sets the same Lenten hymn as Du Fay, Audi, benigne conditor, but now as a motet in two large sections comprising two stanzas each (omitting the doxology Stanza 5). First appearing in print in 1568, Audi, benigne conditor figures among Lassus’s relatively early works (the earliest date from 1555, the latest from 1594). For a composer famous for his musical rhetoric, that is, capturing in music the meaning and mood of the words being set, this motet seems an oddly cheerful plea to God to grant forgiveness to a faithful servant fasting in penitence. Since Lassus did not set words carelessly, we may interpret the bright sound of this work to represent the composer’s Christian faith in heavenly rewards.

From the jointly edited anthology in which Tallis included his In ieiunio et fletu and Derelinquit impius, Byrd positioned Emendemus in melius as his first motet, which scholar Joseph Kerman takes to be an indication that Byrd thought especially highly of this work. Set almost entirely in homorhythm (chordally), with five voices declaiming the Lenten responsory text simultaneously, Byrd achieves a moving, emotional result by virtue of his exquisite harmonies. Only at the very end do the individual voices speak independently, as they sing the words Libera me (“liberate me”).

Byrd’s unusual setting of the Lenten hymn Christe qui lux es et dies, which survives only in the so-called Dow Partbooks of 1581-88, takes Robert White’s setting of the same hymn as a model. Both composers present the traditional chant melody in an unbroken chain of breves, with all other voices set to the same rhythm, in effect “harmonizing” a chant that is still sung in chant rhythm. Unlike White, Byrd puts the chant melody in the Bassus in the first polyphonic verse, in the Tenor in the next verse, in Contratenor in the verse following, then in Medius, and finally in the top voice, the Superius. As unusual as the procedure are Byrd’s continually surprising harmonies, which one might almost mistake for those of a composer living centuries later.

Robert White was recognized as one of the leading composers in the Chapel Royal during the early years of Elizabeth I’s reign (1558-1603). Though a Catholic, he, like Byrd and Tallis, wrote Anglican sacred music to English words but was also allowed to write motets and Lamentations in Latin. Scholar David Mateer has referred to White’s two settings of Lamentations as “particularly fine,” adding that they “represent a high point of Elizabethan choral music.” The Lamentations heard here, for five voices, survive uniquely in the retrospective anthology copied by Robert Dow in the 1580s, well after White’s death. In the Contratenor and Tenor partbooks Dow inscribed the following tribute, somewhat garbled in syntax but clear enough in meaning: “Non ita moesta sonant plangentis verba Prophetae, Quam sonat authoris musica moesta mei,” which translates as “Not so sad do the words of the weeping prophet sound [referring to Jeremiah’s Lamentations] As does the music of my author.”

White’s prevailing approach to composition, also adopted by Tallis and Byrd, was to introduce the voices of the choir one after the other in imitation, building up the texture from a single voice to five voices, occasionally with one or more voices briefly echoing one or two others, then to juxtapose these passages of contrapuntal independence with passages in which all the voices sing together in the same rhythm. Josquin Desprez had already mastered this approach at the beginning of the sixteenth century, but the English composers of the second half of the century practiced it with an identifiably national harmonic sensibility, making a virtue of alternating B-flat and B-natural, E-flat and E-natural, F-sharp and F-natural, and C-sharp and C-natural in rapid succession (heard earlier in this program to fine effect in the two motets by Tallis). When the technique involves more than one voice, musicians call the interaction a “false relation.” When it is in a single voice it is regarded as linear chromaticism. The English sound is notable for its harmonic richness, evident also in White’s Lamentations at the changes of tonal center whenever the text moves from one statement to another.

Alfonso Ferrabosco, an Italian by birth, served Queen Elizabeth I as a courtier on and off for sixteen years, beginning in 1562. When he wasn’t in England he is known to have worked for the French royal court and the duke of Savoy and to have spent time in Rome and Bologna. He was highly valued everywhere for his musical skills, but his efforts to navigate between Protestant England (where he was suspected of harboring Catholic sentiments) and the Inquisition in Italy (where he was suspected of being a spy for the English crown) led to a troubled career. The text of O vos omnes, taken from one of the verses in the Lamentations of Jeremiah set by White, is sung as the fifth responsory of Holy Saturday Matins, on which occasion the Old Testament words are understood to be Jesus’ as well.

Orlande de Lassus was the most famous composer in Europe during most of his career and by far the most productive. Only occasionally did he write highly chromatic music, his Timor et tremor of 1564 being one of those occasions—and a notable one at that. The text is a collection of verses from Psalms 55, 57, 61, 71, and 31. When Alfonso Ferrabosco’s setting of the same verses was published in the Sacrae cantiones…de festis praecipuis totius anni (“Sacred Songs…for the Major Feasts of the Whole Year”) by Catharine Gerlach in Nuremberg in 1585, it was one of several motets listed under the heading “Dominica Palmarum et de Passione Domini” (appropriate for Palm Sunday and Passiontide). It may be fair to assume, therefore, that when Lassus’s setting was published in the same city 21 years earlier, it likewise was intended to be sung at the end of Lent.

Though Lassus’s music generally may be said to stand at some remove from the peaceful calm of Palestrina and the other composers of the Roman school, in Timor et tremor the contrast reaches new heights. Lassus was drawn to the Psalms as a source of inspiration all his life, yet the extremity of the emotions in the verses chosen here inspired a work that can only be called Mannerist, in that it enlists exaggeration of Lassus’s usual procedures for greater emotional impact. Throughout this extraordinary motet the voices sing loud, then soft, then loud again as the music veers from one tonal center to another, evoking in turn the sentiments of “fear and trembling,” “dread,” “mercy,” “trust,” and “damnation” (“let me not be confounded”). The climax comes at the end, when the sopranos sing a series of rapid-fire sycopations in their highest range to the words “non confundar,” while the lower voices provide an anchor against the storm-tossed waves above them. This is about as far a cry from Palestrina’s unhurried style as Renaissance sacred music could get in the year 1564. Only with the polyphonic works of such later Mannerists as Giaches de Wert and Carlo Gesualdo would sacred music again reach comparable heights of extroversion.

Tonight’s program shows that the stylistic range in sacred music extending from the early Renaissance (Du Fay’s Audi benigne conditor) to the late Renaissance (Lassus’s Timor et tremor) is considerable. What all the works in question have in common is a commitment to counterpoint, especially imitative counterpoint, where the voice-parts function as truly independent melodies following strict rules for the preparation and resolution of dissonance. The result is complex music that avoids superficiality, that shows endlessly inventive effects achieved within its restrictions, and that because of its prevailingly serious mood seems especially well suited to intensifying liturgical devotion. It is understandable, therefore, why the Renaissance, especially the sixteenth century, has long been known as the Golden Age of Polyphony, referring particularly to the music composed for liturgical enrichment.

 

 

 

TEXTS & TRANSLATIONS

 

Audi benigne Conditor                                    Guillaume Du Fay 

Audi benigne Conditor                                     O kindly Maker, hear, we pray,

nostras preces cum flectibus                               our tearful prayers in holy fast,

in hoc sacro ieiunio,                                          a time of inward penitence

fusas quadragenario.                                         spread out full forty days to last.

Scrutator alme cordium,                                    O kindly searcher of our hearts,

infirma tu scis virium;                                       you know the weakness of our power:

ad te reversis exibe                                           now show us as we turn to you

remissionis graciam.                                         remission’s saving grace this hour.

           

      Multum quidem peccavimus,                            Yes, truly we have greatly sinned,      

sed parce confitentibus,                                     yet mercy on us trusting show,

ad laudem tui nominis                                      and for the praise of your great name

confer medelam languidis.                                restore health to us, sick, below.

Sic corpus extra conteri                                      Thus grant our body outwardly          

dona per astinenciam:                                       to suffer much from abstinence,

ieiuverunt mens sobria                                     that we with sober mind abstain

a labe prorsus criminum.                                  from sins with all due penitence.

           

      Presta, beata Trinitas,                                        O blessed Trinity, do guarantee,

concede, simplex Unitas,                                   agreeing, simple Unity,

ut fructuosa sint tuis                                          that to your servants fasting here

ieiuniorum munera. Amen.                              the fruitful prize might given be. Amen.

 

Invocabit me                                                    Chant introit

Invocabit me, et ego exaudiam eum,                 He will cry to me, and I will hear him:

eripiam eum, et glorificabo eum:                       I will deliver him, and I will glorify him:

longitudine dierum adimplebo eum.                 I will fill him him with length of days.

—Psalm 90: 15, 16

Ps. Qui habitat in adjutorio Altissimi,                Ps. He that dwells in the aid of the Most High

in proteccione Dei celi commorabitur.                will abide under the protection of the God of Heaven.

—Psalm 90: 1

      Super flumina Babilonis                                   Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina

      Super flumina Babilionis, illic sedimus              By the waters of Babylon, there we sat

et flevimus, dum recordaremur tui,                   down and wept when we remembered thee,

Sion: in salicibus in medio ejus                          O Sion; on the willow trees therein

suspendimus organa nostra.                              we hanged up our harps.

 

Angelis suis                                                      Chant gradual

Angelis suis mandavit de te,                             He has commended you to his angels,

ut custodiant te in omnibus viis                         that they should watch over you in all your

tuis.                                                                  ways.

V. In manibus portabunt te, ne                          V. In their hands they will bear you up,

unquam offendas ad lapidem                            lest you ever dash your foot against a

pedem tuum.                                                    stone.

—Ps. 90: 11-12

 

      In ieiunio et fletu                                              Thomas Tallis

      In ieiunio et fletu orabant sacerdotes,                 With fasting and weeping the priests prayed,

Parce, Domine, populo tuo et ne des                  Spare, O Lord, your people, and give not

haereditatem tuam in perditionem;                   your heritance to destruction;

inter vestibulum et altare plorabant                   Between the porch and the altar the priests

sacerdotes, dicentes, Parce, Domine,                  wept, saying, Spare, O Lord, spare your

parce populo tuo.                                              people.

—Joel 2: 12a, 17b

 

      Derelinquit impius                                           Thomas Tallis

Derelinquit impius viam suam,                         May the wicked one forsake his way,

et vir iniquus cogitationes suas,                         and the evil man his thoughts.

et revertatur ad Dominum, et                            Let him turn to the Lord, and

miserebitur eius, quia benignus                        he will have mercy on him, for he is

et misericors est, Dominus Deus.                       kind and merciful, the Lord our God.

—Isaiah 55: 7

 

      Stabat mater                                                     Josquin Desprez

Stabat mater dolorosa                                        The sorrowing Mother stood

Juxta crucem lacrimosa                                      weeping near the cross

Dum pendebat Filius.                                       on which her Son hung.

Cujus animam gementem,                                Her weeping soul,

Contristatam et dolentem,                                 sorrowful and grieving,

Pertransivit gladius.                                          a sword had pierced.

O quam tristis et afflicta                                    O how sad and afflicted

Fuit illa benedicta                                             was that blessed one,

Mater Unigeniti.                                               the Mother of the Only-begotten.

 

Que merebat et dolebat,                                    She grieved and mourned

Et tremebat dum videbat                                  and trembled when she saw

Nati penas inclyti.                                             the sufferings of her glorious Son.

Quis est homo qui non fleret                             Who is the man who would not weep

Christi matrem si videret                                  to see the Mother of Christ

In tanto supplicio?                                             in such agony?

Quis non posset contristari                                 Who would not be saddened

Piam matrem contemplari                                 to contemplate the holy Mother

Dolentem cum Filio?                                         grieving for her Son?

 

Pro peccatis sue gentis                                       For the sins of His people

Jesum vidit in tormentis                                    she sees Jesus in torment,

Et flagellis subditum.                                        subjected to a scourging.

Vidit suum dulcem natum                                 She sees her sweet Son

Morientem desolatum                                       dying desolate                                   

Dum emisit spiritum.                                        as He gives up the spirit.

Eya mater, fons amoris,                                     Oh, Mother, fount of love, make

Me sentire vim doloris,                                     me feel the strength of grief,

Fac ut tecum lugeam.                                        that I may grieve with you.

Fac ut ardeat cor meum                                     Make my heart burn

In amando Christum deum,                              with love for Christ the Lord,

Ut sibi complaceam.                                          that I may be pleasing to Him.

Virgo virginum preclara,                                  O Virgin, foremost of virgins,

Jam michi non sis amara,                                  be not bitter towards me:

Fac me tecum plangere.                                    make me weep with you.

Fac ut portem Christi mortem                            Make me bear the death of Christ,

Passionis ejus sortem,                                        the fate of His suffering,

Et plagas recolere,                                             and recall His wounds.

Fac me plagis vulnerari,                                   Let me be hurt by [theses] wounds,

Cruce hac inebriari                                           be inebriated by this cross,

Ob amorem filij.                                               because of love of your Son.

 

Inflammatus et accensus,                                   Inflamed and incensed,

Per te virgo sim defensus                                  may I be defended by you, O Virgin,

In die judicij.                                                     on the Day of Judgment.

Fac me cruce custodiri.                                      Cause me to be guarded by the cross,

Morte Christi premuniri,                                   to be made safe by the death of Christ,

Confoveri gratia.                                               to be blessed by grace.

 

Quando corpus morietur,                                  When my body dies,

Fac ut anime donetur                                        cause the glory of paradise

Paradisi gloria. Amen.                                      to be given to my soul. Amen.

—attr. Fra Jacopone da Todi

 

Tenor:

Comme femme desconfortée,                             Like a woman in agony,        

Sur toutes autres esgarée,                                  distraut above all others,

Quy n’ay jour de ma vie espoir,                        I am one who has no further hope in life

D’en estre en nul temps consolée,                      and cannot ever be consoled,

Mais en mon mal plus agravée                          but is ever more aggrieved by her misfortune

Desire la mort main et soir.                               and wishes for death night and day.

(Tenor text taken from Binchois’s

rondeau in Dijon 517, fol. 41’-42)

 

INTERMISSION

 

Audi benigne Conditor                                    Orlande de Lassus 

(see above)

 

      Emendemus in melius                                      William Byrd

Emendemus in melius que                                Let us amend for the better those sins we

ignoranter peccavimus ne                                 in ignorance have committed, lest being

subito preoccupati die mortis                             overtaken suddenly on our day of death

queramus spatium penitentie                            we seek a time for penitence

et invenire non possumus.                                and cannot find it.

 

Attende, domine, et miserere,                           Harken, O Lord, and have mercy,

quia peccavimus tibi.                                        for we have sinned against you.

Adiuva nos, deus salutaris noster,                     Help us, O God of our salvation,

et propter honorem nominis tui                         and, for the glory of your name,

libera nos.                                                        deliver us.

 

      Christe qui lux es et dies                                   William Byrd

Christe, qui lux es et dies,                                 Christ, who art light and day,

noctis tenebras detegis,                                     who uncovers the dark of night,

lucisque lumen crederis,                                   whom we believe to be the light of light,

lumen beatum predicans.                                  proclaiming blessed light.

Precamur, sancte domine,                                 We beseech you, holy Lord,

defende nos in hac nocte,                                  to defend us this night.

sit nobis in te requies,                                       May our rest be in you,

quiemtam noctem tribue.                                  as you grant us a quiet night.

Ne gravis somnus irruat,                                   Let not heavy sleep seize us,

nec hostis nos surripiat,                                     nor the enemy take us,

nec caro illi consentiens,                                    nor the flesh, yielding to the enemy,

nos tibi reos statuat.                                          make us sinful before you.

Oculi somnum capiant,                                     Let our eyes grasp sleep,

cor ad te semper vigilet,                                    but our heart remain vigilant to you;

dextera tua protegat                                          may your right hand protect

famulos qui te diligunt.                                     your servants who love you.

Defensor noster aspice,                                      Our defender, look on us,

insidiantes reprime,                                          restrain the insidious,

guberna tuos famulos,                                       govern your servants

quos sanguine mercatus es.                               whom you have redeemed with your blood.

Memento nostri domine,                                   Be mindful of us, O Lord,

in gravi isto corpore,                                         in this burdensome body,

qui es defensor animae,                                    who art the defender of the soul:

adesto nobis, domine. Amen.                            be with us, O Lord. Amen.

—(Hymn for Compline)

 

Lamentationes Ieremiae (Secunda pars)             Thomas Tallis

Caph.                                                               Caph.

Omnis populus eius gemens et quaerens           All her people groan as they search for

panem. Dederunt preciosa quaeque pro            bread. They have given their precious things

cibo ad refocillandam animam. Vide,                 for food to revive their spirits. See, O Lord,

Domine, et considera quoniam facta sum           and consider how worthless I have

vilis.                                                                 become.

Lamed.                                                             Lamed.

O vos omnes qui transitis per viam,                  All ye who pass by on the way,

attendite et videte si est dolor sicut                    look and see if there is any sorrow like

dolor meus, quoniam videmiavit me                 my sorrow, which was brought upon me

ut locutus est Dominus in die irae                      as the Lord said in the day of his fierce

furoris sui.                                                        anger.

Mem.                                                               Mem.

De excelso misit ignem in ossibus meis,             From on high he hath sent fire into my bones,

et erudivit me, expandit rete pedibus                and he spread  net and opened it for my

meis, convertit me retrorsum. Posuit                  feet; he turned me back. He has left me

me desolationem; tota die moerore                    desolate, faint

confectam.                                                        all day long.

Ierusalem, Ierusalem, convertere ad                  Jerusalem, Jerusalem, turn to the Lord

Dominum Deum tuum.                                    your God.

      O vos omnes                                                    Alfonso Ferrabosco

O vos omnes qui transitis per viam,                  All ye who pass by on the way,

attendite et videte si est dolor similis                 look and see if there is any sorrow like

sicut dolor meus.                                               my sorrow.

 

Timor et tremor                                               Orlande de Lassus 

      Timor et tremor venerunt super                        Fear and trembling have come over me,

me, et caligo cecidit super me:                           and darkness has fallen over me:

miserere mei, Domine,                                     have mercy on me, O Lord,

quoniam in te confidit anima mea.                    for my soul has trusted in you.

 

Exaudi, Deus, deprecationem                            Hear my prayer, O God, for

meam, quia refugium meum es                        you are my refuge and my strong

tu et adutor fortis. Domine,                               helper. O Lord, I have implored

invocavi te, non confundar.                               you: let me not be confounded.

—Psalm 54: 6; 30: 18

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

POMERIUM, founded by Alexander Blachly in New York in 1972 to perform music composed for the famed chapel choirs of the Renaissance, derives its name from the title of a treatise by the 14th-century music theorist Marchettus of Padua. In the introduction, Marchettus explains that his Pomerium (literally, “garden”) contains the fruits and flowers of the art of music. Widely known for its interpretations of Du Fay, Ockeghem, Josquin, Palestrina, and Lassus, the modern Pomerium is currently recording a series of compact discs of the masterpieces of Renaissance a cappella choral music, of which the thirteenth, titled Orlande de Lassus: Motets & Magnificat, was released on Pomerium’s own Old Hall Recordings label in 2008. Pomerium’s thirteenth recording in this series is titled A Voice in the Wilderness: Mannerist Motets of the Renaissance.

 

Alexander Blachly is the 1992 recipient of the Noah Greenberg Award given by the American Musicological Society to stimulate historically aware performances and the study of historical performing practices. He has been active in early music as both performer and scholar since 1972. Mr. Blachly earned his post-graduate degrees in musicology from Columbia University and assumed the post of Director of Choral Music at the University of Notre Dame in 1993. In addition to Pomerium, Mr. Blachly directs the University of Notre Dame Chorale and Chamber Orchestra.

 

 

For bookings, please contact

Wendy Redlinger,

Senior Arist Representative

GEMS Live!

(802) 254-6189

wredlinger@gemsny.org

GEMS

Gotham Early Music Scene

340 Riverside Drive, Suite 1-A

New York, NY 10025

(2120 866-0466

http://www.pomerium.us

This concert is made possible, in part, with funding from

the New York State Council on the Arts.

 

 

 

 

From his 1589 collection of hymns for the whole year comes Palestrina’s Vexilla regis prodeunt, with magnificent words by Venantius Fortunatus (6th cent.) for Passion Sunday. In contrast to his more rhetorical setting of Super flumina Babylonis heard earlier, here Palestrina adopts his favored style of fluent, smoothly unfolding counterpoint, with verses in polyphony alternating with verses in chant in the same time-honored fashion as in Du Fay’s hymn at the beginning of our program. Like many polyphonic hymn composers from the beginning of the sixteenth century, Palestrina expands the final polyphonic stanza from four to five voices, with the added voice and top voice sounding in strict, slow-motion canon.

 

Vexilla regis                                                     Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina

Vexilla regis prodeunt,                                      The banners of the king proceed:

Fulget crucis mysterium,                                   now gleams the mystery of the cross,

Quo carne carnis conditor                                  that gibbet which upon was hung,

Suspensus est patibulo.                                     in flesh, the maker of all flesh.

 

Quo vulneratus insuper                                    The cross on which he, wounded too

Mucrone diro lancee,                                         by the dreaded lance’s point,

Ut nos lavaret crimine,                                      blood and water forth did bleed

Manavit unda et sanguine.                                to cleanse us of our sin.

 

Impleta sunt que concinit                                  Now see fulfilled the prophecy

David fidelis carmine,                                       that faithful David sang,

Dicens in nationibus:                                        saying to the nations, this:

Regnavit a ligno deus.                                      Our God upon a tree has reigned.

 

Arbor decora et fulgida,                                    O lovely, shining tree, adorned

Ornata regis purpura,                                       with purple of the King,

lecta digno stipite                                              chosen, with your worthy trunk,

Tam sancta membra tangere.                            such sacred limbs to touch.

 

Beata, cujus brachiis                                          Blessed tree, whose branches held

Saecli pependit pretium,                                   the treasure of the world:

Statera facta corporis,                                         a balance from his body made

Praedamque tulit Tartari.                                  to bear the prize of Tartarus.

 

Fundis aroma cortice,                                        You pour upon the bark sweet spice,

Vincis sapore nectare,                                        you conquer with sweet nectar’s scent,

Iucunda fuctu fertili                                           and with a pleasant fertile fruit

Plaudis triumpho nobili.                                   the noble triumph you applaud.

 

O crux, ave, spes unica,                                    Hail, O cross, our only hope,

Hoc passionis tempore,                                      at this the passiontide:

Auge piis justitiam,                                           to the just give justice more,

Reisque dona veniam.                                      and mercy sinners grant.

 

Salve, ara, salve, victima,                                  Hail, O altar, victim, hail,

De passionis gloria                                            glory of the passion’s duel,

Qua vita mortem pertulit,                                 that by which life death removes

Et morte vitam reddidit.                                    and too from death life is restored.

 

Te summa, deus, trinitas,                                  To you, O God, high Trinity,

Collaudet omnis spiritus                                    may every spirit sing forth praise,

Quos per crucis mysterium                                whom by the mystery of the cross

Salvas: rege per secula. Amen.                          you’d save: now ever be our King! Amen.                                —Venantius Fortunatus (6th cent.)                     —Trans. A.B.

 

 

 Posted by at 6:04 pm

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On Saturday, April 15, 2017, Pomerium will perform Passion and Resurrection Motets of the Renaissance, its annual Holy Saturday concert at The Met Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park, New York, NY.

On Sunday, Feb. 5, 2017, Pomerium performed Musical Games, Puzzles, and Riddles of the Renaissance in the Church of St. Ignatius of Antioch in New York.

On Sunday, Nov. 6, 2016, Pomerium performed The Golden Age of Polyphony: Renaissance Music from the Library of Congress Collection in the Church of St. Ignatius of Antioch in New York, a program first performed October 31, 2015, at the Library of Congress. Read the Washington Post’s extraordinary review.

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Pomerium’s April 9, 2015, concert at Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall was a triumphant end to the group’s 42nd season.

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The program for the evening’s concert was the entirety of “Music for the Tudor Queens,” Pomerium’s latest CD, released in February 2015.  The CD can be purchased here.  You can also download the tracks at our “Music & Store” page.

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READ THE AMAZING WASHINGTON POST REVIEW OF POMERIUM’S MAY 5, 2013, CONCERT AT THE PHILLIPS COLLECTION


Pomerium celebrated its 40th anniversary in 2012-2013 with the release of “A Voice in the Wilderness-Mannerist Motets of the Renaissance.” 
Background music: Gesualdo – Ecce vidimus eum

Order your copy here: Add to Cart

Or download MP3 files here, or at Amazon.com, iTunes, and dozens of other sites.

Pomerium’s first concert of the 2012-2013 season was September 14 at the University of Notre Dame. It included slides of art works projected on a large screen above the singers. Here are some comments from people who were there: “Alex, thank you for the evening of beautiful music. We also appreciated both the well-chosen slides and your comments, which added a deeper dimension to our listening experience. Bravo to you and to your Pomerium; the concert was a delight in every way.” — Jane D. “I thought the concert last night was superb. I could have listened to three more hours. I was in the front row of the balcony and the acoustics were, to my ear, just perfect. Hearty congrats, and many thanks” –John E.

 Posted by at 7:01 am

April 9, 2015 Weill Recital Hall

 

150409WEILLc

Program

 

MUSIC FOR MARY TUDOR (REIGNED 1553-1558)

Te lucis ante terminum

Salvator mundi, Domine

Gloria, Missa Puer natus est

In manus tuas, Domine

Sanctus, Missa Puer natus est

Regina coeli

Agnus Dei, Missa Puer natus est

Thomas Tallis (ca. 1505-1585)

Thomas Tallis

Thomas Tallis

John Sheppard (ca. 1515-1558)

Thomas Tallis

Robert White (ca. 1538-1574)

Thomas Tallis

Intermission

 

MUSIC FOR ELIZABETH I (REIGNED 1558-1603)

Christe, qui lux es et dies

In ieiunio et fletu

Derelinquit impius

O lux beata Trinitas

In resurrectione tua

Haec dies

William Byrd (ca. 1539-1623)

Thomas Tallis

Thomas Tallis

William Byrd

William Byrd

William Byrd

REMINISCENCES OF THE 16TH CENTURY:
TWO FANTAZIAS TEXTED

Fantazia à5, Upon One Note, Z. 745
(texted to Richard Crashaw’s Song)

Fantazia à4, No. 7, Z. 738
(texted to John Donne’s Holy Sonnet I)

Henry Purcell (1659-1695)

Henry Purcell

Pomerium

Kristina Boerger, Melissa Fogarty,
Michele Kennedy, Dominique Surh – sopranos
Luthien Brackett – mezzo-soprano
Robert Isaacs – countertenor
Neil Farrell, Peter Gruett, Michael Steinberger, Christopher Thompson – tenors
Jeffrey Johnson, Thomas McCargar – baritones
Kurt-Owen Richards, Peter Stewart – basses

 

Commentary on the Program

by Alexander Blachly

    Queen Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, ruled England for only five years, but they were good years for music. Mary’s first priority was the restoration of the Catholic Church, recently outlawed by her father and younger brother in favor of the new Church of England. Considering music to be an important part of the restoration, Mary encouraged composers to write elaborate sacred music similar in style to the monumental English works from the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries—works as different as possible from the simplified music for the Church of England composed in the years immediately preceding her reign. Upon Mary’s death, Queen Elizabeth I ascended the throne. She was a fine musician (as was Mary), much enamored of the sacred works by Tallis, White, and the young William Byrd. As a Protestant, she officially catered to the Protestant ethic of simplified music for churches throughout the realm, but for her private enjoyment she commissioned Latin works in a far richer style.

     When Henry VIII died in 1547, having broken with the church in Rome in 1534 over the pope’s refusal to annul his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, English sacred music was still large-scale, intricate, complex, and dominated by grand effects. This all changed when the nine-year-old Edward VI, Henry VIII’s youngest child, ascended the throne upon his father’s death. The boy’s regents, his protector, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, all took advantage of the opportunity afforded by a boy king to impose a wholly new style of music on the young Anglican church, a style of simplicity and modesty, the primary purpose of which was to project words clearly, one syllable per note, the words being entirely in English. For composers who had previously luxuriated in the flamboyant and challenging musical environment supported by Henry VII and VIII, this must have been a great disappointment.

     Such disappointment was not to last. Edward reigned only six years. In 1553, he died at the age of fifteen, at which point his half-sister, Mary Tudor, Henry VIII’s oldest child, became England’s first queen regent. In her self-selected mission to re-establish Catholicism as England’s national religion, Mary gave composers free rein to write in the old style. The resulting large-scale works, predominantly based on Gregorian chant and sung in Latin, delayed what many regard as the musical Renaissance in England, for their intent was to revive a “Golden Age” of the past. But, cut off from developments on the Continent, Mary’s composers were not concerned with such novelties. The tradition they aspired to continue was the dizzyingly decorative art exemplified by England’s perpendicular Gothic architecture, which had reached its zenith with the fan vaulting of Henry VII’s Lady Chapel, Westminster Abbey (1503), and King’s College Chapel, Cambridge (1515). This may not have been the “Renaissance” of the humanists and the master painters of Italy, but it was a magical self-contained world of extraordinary effects and stunning craftsmanship. We can well imagine that composers in the 1550s working in Westminster Abbey, or in any similar building, would find inspiration for their music in the mathematically-derived designs of its walls and ceiling, designs which we still find breathtaking today.

     Our program presents a representative sampling of music from Mary Tudor’s reign (1553-1558) and that of her half-sister, Elizabeth I (1558-1603), Henry VIII’s middle child—the fifty-year period of the two Tudor queens. Both Mary and Elizabeth played keyboards at a high level, and both had a keen ear for music of quality. Following her coronation, Elizabeth allowed composers to continue producing works in Latin, especially her favorite composers, Thomas Tallis and William Byrd, both Catholics. They were permitted to write anything they wished so long as they continued to write some (increasingly sophisticated) music in English for the Anglican church at large. This both did, while expending their greatest efforts on elaborate contrapuntal edifices in Latin. Byrd retired from active participation in the Chapel Royal in the 1590s, nearly thirty years prior to his death in 1523, preferring to devote all his efforts from that time on to secret music for the recusant Catholic church rather than divide his loyalties between two antithetical religious camps.

     Toward the end of Elizabeth’s reign, Italian music flooded into England, causing a sensation and a new style of English music. Until then, however, Latin Tudor music after the death of Edward predominantly took its inspiration from the old rather than the new. This was by no means a sterile or unproductive orientation. Indeed, the combined reigns of the Tudor queens was perhaps the most fruitful period for music in England’s storied history. These were the fifty years of the sacred music of Christopher Tye, John Sheppard, Robert White, Robert Parsons, Thomas Tallis, and William Byrd. The latter part of Elizabeth’s reign, especially, saw an extraordinary outpouring of secular works, predominantly pieces for keyboard, by some of these same composers, and by others who would live well into the seventeenth century: Giles Farnaby, John Munday, Martin Peerson, Thomas Tomkins, Orlando Gibbons, and John Bull, not to mention the flourishing of the “English madrigal school” of the 1590s and early 1600s led by Thomas Morley, Thomas Weelkes, and John Wilbye.

     Tallis’s seven-voice Mass on the Christmas introit chant Puer natus est deserves special mention. It appears to have been written in the fall 1554 for joint performance by the Chapel Royal, the choir of St. Paul’s, and the “Flemish” chapel singers (the Capilla Flamenca) of king Philip II of Spain, who had arrived in England in time to marry Mary Tudor the previous July 25. The seven voices of the Puer natus est Mass serve as an allusion to Mary Tudor as the earthly counterpart of the heavenly Mary, whose number was traditionally understood to be seven because of her seven sorrows and seven joys. Tallis’s large-scale piece had a further reference: its choice of cantus firmus was intended to celebrate the upcoming Christmas season and also what was believed to be the imminent birth of Mary and Philip’s first child, who, if a boy, would become the future king of England. (Mary did not bear a child, however, having had what is now thought to have been a phantom pregnancy.)

     Tallis’s huge work survives incomplete (most of the Credo is lost, as well as several voice parts of the Sanctus and Agnus Dei; it probably never had a Kyrie). Joseph Kerman first detected how the surviving fragments should be reassembled, and also recognized the untitled cantus firmus and the manner in which Tallis had arranged it in six sections, in each of which the sequence of pitches and their duration are controlled by a different algorithm. An edition of the Gloria, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei, with missing voices supplied by Sally Dunkley and David Wulstan, appeared in 1977. In listening to this great work, our ears hardly register an underlying foundation voice or its complicated presentation. We instead are captivated by seven-voice textures of unprecedented grandeur and melodic beauty, striking for their seemingly effortless unfolding.

     As Kerman has explained, Tallis presents the cantus firmus in each movement according to a progressively more arcane principle. In the first part of the Gloria, each cantus firmus note has a duration based on the vowel associated with it in the original chant words. The vowels have the values a=1, e=2, i=3, o=4, u=5. Thus, for the first three notes of the cantus firmus, G, d, d, originally sung to the word “Puer” (G-d on the syllable “Pu-” and d on “er”), the durations are: five units of G, five units of d, followed by another two units of d, thus five units of G followed by seven units of d. In the first two sections of the Gloria, the unit is the semibreve. In the third section (“Qui tollis), the unit is the breve. In the first two segments of the Sanctus, segment 1 of the chant is presented in original note order, then repeated in retrograde. Here the unit is the minim. When the vowel requires a note of five units or even four in duration, the units tend to be divided up and recombined to accommodate the Mass words, further obscuring the principle at work. In the Pleni, Tallis adds another twist. Here each time the chant has a two- or three-note neume (two or three notes joined together in the notational system of the time), that neume will be repeated in retrograde before continuing on to the next part of the chant. In the Benedictus, the vowel values are reversed.

     Agnus Dei I has the longest time units thus far, and covers segment 4 of the chant, first in dotted breve units, later in dotted semibreve units. This results in some very long cantus firmus notes, which Tallis shows a special skill in disguising; indeed, he does this so well that we are hardly aware of the prolonged pedal tones at all. His primary strategy is to have the top two voices engage in a call and response dialogue, with melodic phrases that slowly change over the course of repetitions. We find these so mesmerizing that we tend to lose track of the harmonic stasis underneath. Agnus Dei II, with a minim unit, uses segments 5 and 6 of the chant and subjects them to the most abstract formula yet: Kerman represents the repetition scheme by the series n1 n2 n1 n2 n3 n2 n3 n4 n3 n4 n5…n20 n21 n22 n21 n22, where the n’s represent successive notes of the cantus firmus.

     Daniel Bennett Page in his dissertation on music for Mary’s chapel, speculated that Tallis’s strange cantus firmus procedures in the Puer natus Mass might allude to Mary’s motto Veritas temporis filia (“Truth, the daughter of time”) by way of its “highly atypical manipulation of temporal values.” On a purely technical level, we see Tallis challenging himself to write effective music under the most extreme constraints—and to do it in such a way that we are not aware of the constraints. Why? Perhaps because he writes music as a metaphor for the two realities of the medieval world view: on the one hand, there is the underlying mathematical truth of God’s design, which can only be apprehended by the intellect. On the other hand, there is the world of sensory experience, of music as melody and harmony, of motifs and patterns, of pervasive imitation and block chords. This aspect of music takes nearly all of our attention, and it is what we normally judge when we assess the value of a musical composition. The more rigorous and unyielding the underlying framework, however, the more truthful such music becomes as a metaphor of the underlying order of the cosmos.

     The Tudor composers learned music in cathedral choir schools. Those active in Mary’s reign experienced a daily diet of Gregorian chant, the greatest source of pure melody in the Western tradition. It is not surprising, therefore, that their polyphonic music is so expressively melodic, featuring particularly telling interplay of tuneful motifs in all voices. Where most music on the Continent (with the notable exception of the “Roman school” of Palestrina) became progressively more harmonic in orientation in the course of the sixteenth century—meaning that it more and more featured a prominent melody in the top voice supported by lower voices that created a chordal foundation—English sacred music continued its pursuit of truly independent voices engaged in a polyphonic conversation. Such music is less dramatic than the almost theatrical effects of Continental polyphony of the time, but it is richer in detail, more rewarding of close listening, more harmonically subtle. This is the glory of the Tudor tradition, from the Eton Choirbook, copied during the reign of Henry VII ca. 1500, to the death of Elizabeth in 1603, with the greatest composers active and the greatest music originating in the fifty-year reign of the two Tudor queens.

     Like the Renaissance generally, music printing came late to England, with the first musical print from movable type appearing in 1575, three quarters of a century after Ottaviano de’ Petrucci’s pioneering music prints using this technology, the first of which appeared in Venice in 1501. None of the music composed for Mary Tudor, therefore, appeared in print during her lifetime. Even in Elizabeth’s reign, most music continued to be transmitted in manuscript. Frustratingly for historians, much of the sacred music of both Mary and Elizabeth’s reigns survives today only in anthologies copied many years after the fact. How then can we separate what was written for Mary from what was written for Elizabeth, since both monarchs showed a liking for sacred music in Latin? Daniel Page first proposed what now seems an obvious method: since Elizabeth had banned the Latin Sarum rite in 1559, and all the Gregorian chant associated with it, nearly all music from the time of the two queens that places a premium on chant, whether as cantus firmus, as a model for paraphrase, or in verses that alternate with verses in polyphony in a manner known as alternatim, can be considered a product of Mary’s reign—for her composers championed the chant of the Sarum rite as one means of changing England’s religion from Anglican back to Catholic. This explains why all the pieces attributed to Mary’s reign in this concert feature Gregorian chant prominently (as in White’s Christe qui lux es, where the chant is in the top voice in an unbroken stream of long notes) or foundationally (as in the Tallis’s Puer natus Mass, where the chant cantus firmus determines the harmonies but is itself almost inaudible within a sea of other voices).

     It is unlikely that the Latin music for Elizabeth, on the other hand, would ever have been based on chant, since Elizabeth herself had banned the Sarum rite and its music. Nevertheless, the same sublety, elegance, and compositional mastery is evident in Elizabeth’s Latin music as in Mary’s. William Byrd may only have composed a few pieces by the time Mary died in 1558. Nearly all his output, therefore, can be assigned to Elizabeth’s reign. (His setting of Christe qui lux es, clearly modeled on the similar setting by White, is thought to be one of his earliest works. We position it in this concert on the cusp, as it were, between Mary and Elizabeth, since it might have been composed during the reign of either queen.) With Tallis, who was already in his prime when Mary ascended the throne in 1553, we are forced to rely on Page’s method to separate Mary’s from Elizabeth’s works. The significant point that emerges from comparing the music for the Tudor queens is that both monarchs presided over the creation of Latin music of extraordinary skill and aural appeal. It is posterity’s good fortune that Mary considered sacred music important enough to subsidize its return to an elevated style after the experiments of Edward’s reign; and posterity’s further good fortune that Elizabeth similarly valued elevated music sufficiently to patronize complex Latin works for the Chapel Royal at a time when sacred music for the Anglican church was generally prescribed to be in a simpler style and in English. While, therefore, we can differentiate Mary’s Latin music from Elizabeth’s by the filter of Gregorian chant, in actual compositional quality and style the works of both monarchs seem nearly indistinguishable. The only significant difference may be that the most extended and imposing works seem to be from Mary’s reign, Elizabeth’s works being rather less grandiose.

     In the case of Tallis, a further stylistic difference between music for Mary or for Elizabeth is that the late works from the 1570s—music, therefore, for Elizabeth, such as In ieiunio et fletu or Derelinquit impious—show greater harmonic daring than the Salvator mundi setting and the Puer natus Mass from Mary’s reign. Strikingly, each of the five voices in the later pieces enters on a different pitch of the scale, the last voice to enter in In ieiunio doing so on a note that is not even in the initial scale. Do we see here the teacher (Tallis) taking a cue from his student (Byrd)? For Byrd in even his earliest works shows unusual harmonic daring, a case in point being the third section of his six-voice O lux beata Trinitas, where three of the six voices are in a highly irregular canon at the lower fifth and upper fourth, with the lead voice introducing F-naturals in a sea of F-sharps and C-sharps in the non-canonic voices, causing the resolutions at the lower fifth and upper fourth to introduce B-flats within that same sea. The arcane harmonies that result stretch our conception of what was possible in Renaissance style.

     Henry Purcell began his career with a look back to the glories of the Tudor years. In June, July, and August of the year 1680, at the age of 20 (he was born 10 September 1659), he wrote fifteen “fantazias” for from three to seven melody instruments. The instruments he had in mind were violas da gamba. The nine four-part fantazias are dated (10 June 1680, 11 June 1680, 14 June 1680, 19 June 1680, 19/22 June 1680, 23 June 1680, 30 June 1680, 18/19 August 1680, 31 August 1680), from which it can be seen that Purcell completed these works quickly, in one case in a single day—a further aspect of the tour-de-force nature of this repertoire, considered by many to be the greatest works for gamba consort ever written.

     Purcell’s fantazias mark the end of the era of gamba consort music that began under Henry VIII and flourished throughout the first half of the seventeenth century. Our justification for including two of these works here is that the gamba tradition arose in the milieu of vocal music, specifically of sacred polyphony, for most of the English gambists began their careers as choirboys in the cathedrals. Their training included singing, playing keyboards, and playing gambas. The music for gamba consort drew perforce from the choral style the choirboys practiced day in and day out. It was, as a result, a vocal style, idiomatic to the human voice. That feature is still present in the Purcell fantazias, which harken back in their compositional technique to the contrapuntal tradition of motets and anthems by the likes of White, Tallis, and Byrd. Indeed, the harmonic language of the fantazias seems directly derived from Tallis’s and Byrd’s most extreme efforts. Not surprisingly, therefore, Purcell’s fantazias practically beg to be sung. Importantly, from our point of view, they are the only such vocally-friendly instrumental music that Purcell wrote, for he soon thereafter moved on to music for violins and for the theater.

     Having myself listened to the Purcell fantazias for many years (somewhat wistfully, for they were not music a vocal ensemble could perform), it struck me one day that I might be able to find a contemporaneous poem that could be set to one of them as a contrafact so that Purcell’s wonderful polyphonic lines could be sung. The tradition of texting instrumental music for singers goes back to the early years of the sixteenth century, when we find works like Heinrich Isaac’s three-voice instrumental carmen “La Morra” supplied with a Latin sacred text, Reple tuorum corda fidelium, in the Nikolaus Apel Codex. By a stroke of luck I came across the seventeenth-century poet Richard Crashaw’s Song early in my search for a Purcell contrafact poem, and this turned out to be an uncannily good fit for the Fantazia Upon One Note—an amazing piece in five parts, one voice of which simply sounds a single note throughout, while the other parts engage in music of such harmonic diversity that it doesn’t seem possible that they all revolve around one pitch. Pomerium premiered the texted Fantazia Upon One Note in a public performance in 2010. Next I searched for a poem that could serve as a contrafact for the equally amazing four-part Fantazia à 4, No. 7. John Donne’s Holy Sonnet I, Thou hast made me, has just the right mood of anguish to correspond to the excruciating cross relations that characterize the long first part of this piece. And when the music moves to a new section in fast notes, the poem introduces the words “and death meets me as fast,” a perfect fit. To set the entire poem comfortably to the existing music required repeating the final section as a petite reprise, but this was easily done and seems not to have had a negative effect on the Fantazia as pure music. First premiered in a private performance by Pomerium in December 2013, Fantazia à 4, No. 7, in its sung form will be heard by most listeners for the first time in this concert.

     Adapting the Purcell fantazias to the human voice did require considerable rearranging of passages from one octave to another, even occasional exchanges of parts, and the transposition of the Fantazia Upon One Note from F major to C major, for viols have a larger range than most human voices. The goal of the arrangements, however, was for the musical character, the motifs, and the harmonies of the originals to be retained intact. It is to be hoped that both Purcell pieces heard here will be recognized as true reminiscences of the gamba fantasia’s origin as a choristers’ genre in the sixteenth century, hence closely atuned spiritually and melodically to the vocal and instrumental polyphony composed for the Tudor queens.

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