Music from the Heart of Europe
Brahms and Schubert Choral Masterworks
Saturday, March 25, 2000 at 8:00 pm.
Johannes Brahms
Four Songs for Women's Chorus, Two Horns, and Harp, op. 17
Songs of love and of the night for a cappella and accompanied chorus
Neue Liebeslieder, op. 65
Franz Schubert
Ständchen, Nachthelle, Der 23. Psalm, Gott in der Natur, Mirjams Siegesgesang
Texts and translations
Program Notes
A unique treasure among the vast and well-loved choral legacy of Johannes Brahms, his Opus 17 set of songs for women's chorus features the unusual sonority of two horns and harp. The ethereal effect of the female voices combines with the dark, bronzen tones of the French horns, all the while connected and enriched by the broadly-spun arpeggii of the harp, setting the color of all four songs of the work. The composer's choice of these particular instruments neatly combines bardic and sylvan instrumental colors, which, when combined, greatly enhance the texts.
The first song begins as a mystic invocation from the French horn, welling up from the dark, answered first by the harp, and then the chorus. The second song, its text from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, is notable for its simplicity of form and its complexity of rhythm and harmony. Although Der Gärtner begins optimistically, its mood soon darkens, in spite of the gay-sounding harp accompaniment, when we learn that the gardener of the title is also a gravedigger. The last and most poignant of the four is a heartfelt lament for the passing of Trenar of Inistore. Brahms varies the texture of this song by alternately scoring passages for women's voices a cappella, then with horn, then two, then harp. Throughout the set, Brahms's awesome skill with creating mood is everywhere at work.
Franz Schubert gave his heart's essence to his songs. He surely admired the sound of the human voice raised in song. There is no more masterful collection of minor and major masterworks than his corpus of lieder for solo voice and piano. These songs run the gamut of emotion. The human condition, whether joyful or melancholy, is everywhere laid bare for contemplation. The best of Schubert's songs demand we pay attention and reflect on our place on and off this earth. As a collection of musical art, only the Beethoven String Quartets offer utterances so deep and personal.
Schubert's works for chorus can approach the lofty heights of artistry achieved by his solo lieder. While not as intimate in their appeal, the secular choral works nonetheless potently present palpable human issues for contemplation and edification. Each of the five works we will perform tonight creates a vivid and memorable mood, aided by poetic texts which clearly fired the composer's equally vivid imagination.
The 23rd Psalm was written in December 1820, a time when Schubert was producing some of his greatest lieder. Composed for the singing students of his friend Anna Froelich who taught at the Vienna Conservatory, this composition demonstrates just how much Schubert's great gifts had matured. The lilting triplets of the piano accompaniment provide a refreshing sensation of tension and release with the duple setting of the four-part women's chorus. The text, translated from Old Testament sources by Moses Mendelssohn, is perfectly matched to Schubert's radiant music. The overall effect is one of contained joy and great calm - a relaxation of concern - attributable to the salvation promised by the text and the embracing repose of the music. With not one wasted note, and in the brief span of five minutes, we are taken to another sphere where all that is good is ours to have, forever.
Two settings exist of Schubert's charming Ständchen. The work was first cast for mezzo-soprano solo with female chorus. A few days later the composer reset the work for mezzo-soprano with men's four-part chorus. Aside for key, voicings and a few soloist's notes, the settings appear virtually identical. The version with women's chorus is lovely. But the added richness and contrast imparted by the juxtaposition of the mezzo soloist with men's voices is more compelling - to say nothing of the sexual tension created by the implications of the somewhat ambiguous text, now made more palpable.
Nachthelle, a poet's contemplation of a distant village bathed in moonlight, appeals for its superb tenor solo, the rich sound of the divided men's chorus, and the moonlit streams of silvery light gently shining in the accompaniment. Schubert's creative use of ostinato, here put to the service of creating an aura of calm and repose haloing the chorus and soloist, is of very special interest.
Vivid is the word for Gott in der Natur, a stirring and almost melodramatic reflection of its colorful text. That it is scored for women's voices is very intriguing. One could surmise that subject matter such as this would be appropriate for the power and color of mixed voices. But no matter. The four-part women's chorus, especially when coupled with the extrovert and demanding piano accompaniment, combine in a blaze of fire fully equal to the demands of the text and Schubert's highly dramatic music.
Mirjams Siegesgesang stands as something of a monument in Schubert's canon of choral works. Huge in scope, the demands made of the soloist depicting the warrior princess Miriam are many and daunting. A rare high C is merely one of the challenges. This Miriam must not only tell a familiar story, she must act it as well, as if she were imparting an important legend to her followers which they are expected to remember and pass on to their progeny. These challenges are not limited to the soloist, however. The chorus, acting as commentator and participant in the tale, is asked to project faith, pastoral calm, fright, trembling fear, revenge, and ultimate exultation. The piano, acting as orchestra throughout, underpins in virtuoso fashion every emotional twist and turn of the singers and the story they tell. Especially telling are the vivid depiction of the Israelite's fear as they pass through the crystal walls of the parted Red Sea, and Pharaoh's slow sinking to the sepulchral depths of the abyss. If Schubert had lived longer, he might well have orchestrated this work, so broad is its scope and drama.
Some of the seven of our Brahms Lieder of Love and of the Night were written as works for chamber performance - music at home, perhaps - works presumably intended for solo vocal quartet with piano accompaniment. One might ask: why delve into this repertoire when so much Brahms exists clearly intended for ensemble performance?
Some answers:
- Precedent exists for the concept of "choral Lieder"
- Certain of these quartets are unusually well-suited to larger ensemble performance. Those selected tonight are greatly enriched by the larger number of singers, and the impact of the conjunction of music and poetry is significantly enhanced
- These works deserve to be heard by as many listeners as practicable
We are indebted to Robert Shaw for the impetus of this, for it was he who pieced together in 1992 "Seven Evening Songs" for performance and a subsequent recording. Our selection is different from his, but does follow his model in that this group of lieder are all concerned with love and the night.
Waldesnacht, redolent of the atmosphere of the dark green woods, dates from 1874 and is notable for its rich harmonic progressions, suspensions, and sense of repose.
Der Abend, written but one year later, is a concise masterwork, painting in almost operatic colors the symbolic descent of the sun in the form of Phoebus, the archer, and his chariot being welcomed into the sea by his lover Thetis, as Cupid leads the exhausted horses to a cooling stream.
An entirely different take on nighttime is heard within the brief duration of N$auml;chtens, an 1888 work from op. 112. Here the night is filled with a chill wind of ghosts and nettlesome spirits, all aptly limned in the spectral and fleeting piano accompaniment with the chorus wailing as if it were a choir of lost souls.
Der Gang zum Liebchen from 1863 is drawn from traditional Czech sources, and is unusual in how the warm but restless accompaniment implies an undercurrent of agitation until the very end when the worried suitor presumably finds his lover safe from harm.
O schöne Nacht, op. 92, dates from 1877 and is cherishable for its nightingale in the treetops and the ardent harmonies accompanying the moonstruck youth below, en route to his beloved. This is "mood painting" of the highest order, and this work in particular especially benefits from ensemble performance.
The curious but charming little Abendlied, also from op. 92 but a later work from 1884, offers unusually independent accompaniment to an often daringly distant choral harmony. Depicting the "peaceful struggle" between Night and Day as metaphor for life's fleeting moments of joy and sorrow, it melts into a calm lullaby at its close.
The finalé to this group is itself finalé to Brahms's op. 103 Zigeunerlieder, a rousing gypsy salute to love and dreams of love.
Brahms's two sets of Liebeslieder, set generally in waltz meter and scored for vocal quartet with piano duet, have been enthusiastically embraced by musicians and music lovers since the moment of their publication, and no wonder! Love songs of the highest order, both op. 52 and 65 collections run the gamut of emotion and melody. The earlier op. 52, however, sound somewhat pale in comparison to the later and darker op. 65. While op. 52 addresses love from a relatively positive and somewhat naive philosophical perspective, op. 65 deals quite forthrightly with the pleasures as well as the considerably challenging difficulties of amorous human relationships. A predominance of heavily chromatic harmony and minor key settings underscore the more serious nature of this latter opus. The music becomes more darkly passionate as a result, as it paints the foibles of the human condition.
The set opens with a volcanic eruption from the piano, and only a few times thereafter does the mood soften or relax. Bliss, seduction, jealousy, anger, and torment are all encountered en route to the finalé. And, for the text of that finalé, Brahms turns to Goethe, perhaps Germany's greatest poet, for solace among the muses, who alone, the poet and composer opine, can calm the stormy seas of the human condition. This finalé is unique to both sets of Liebeslieder, as it not a waltz at all. The accompaniment is a passacaglia, set in 9/4, reminiscent of sustained and pizzicato strings together, almost serenade-like, with a sense of relief and resignation about it, much as one might feel after a particularly arduous and ultimately unresolved argument. Heady stuff, this music, but after all, so are the subjects it attempts to embrace.
Notes Copyright (c) 2000 by John W. Ehrlich
