Dubbed the “British Orpheus,” Purcell excelled in virtually every realm of music, from vividly dramatic theatrical works to deeply felt religious music, and from simple songs to intricately wrought chamber music. The scope of his achievement is all the more impressive in that, like Mozart and Schubert, his life was prematurely cut short: The 36-year-old composer was interred in Westminster Abbey in 1695, a few months after the funeral of Queen Mary, for which he composed some of his most sublime music. A tablet near his tomb informs passersby that the composer “is gone to that blessed place where only his harmony can be exceeded.”
In the mid-20th century, Benjamin Britten made dozens of arrangements—or “realizations,” as he preferred to call them—of Purcell’s works, ranging from theater songs and church anthems to the opera Dido and Aeneas. “The Blessed Virgin’s Expostulation” is set to verses by Nahum Tate, who would later write the libretto for Dido. A short but intensely dramatic monologue, it depicts Mary’s distress when the young Jesus mysteriously disappears on a visit to Jerusalem, only to turn up three days later conversing sagely with elders in the temple. Britten accentuates the emotional drama by fleshing out Purcell’s bare-bones vocal part and bass line with expressive harmonies and accompaniment figures, much as a 17th-century musician would have done. His aim, he wrote, was to capture “something of that mixture of clarity, brilliance, tenderness, and strangeness which shines out in all Purcell’s music.”
—Harry Haskell
Strauss composed his Op. 67 as a bit of invective directed against Berlin publisher Bote & Bock. Hugo Bock and Strauss sat on opposite sides of the fence in a growing dispute over the performance rights of composers. No copyright laws, as we now know them, existed in Germany. Unwittingly, Strauss had signed a contract with Bock that contained a fine-print clause that required him to hand over his next set of lieder. Court battles appeared imminent should Strauss refuse, so he composed the irascible, defiant Op. 67 songs in 1918 as a “gift” for his legal adversary. Norman Del Mar, Strauss’s later biographer, described this collection as “three mad songs and three bad-tempered songs.”
The partly incoherent ramblings of Ophelia in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5—directed toward Queen Gertrude, King Claudius, and Ophelia’s brother Laertes—provided texts for Strauss’s first three songs, in German translations by Karl Joseph Simrock. By this point in the drama, the fair Ophelia, daughter of the lord chamberlain Polonius, has begun an affair with Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, who is hopelessly beyond her social class. Polonius secretly keeps watch over his daughter. When Hamlet discovers an “intruder” hiding behind a tapestry in Queen Gertrude’s chamber, he thrusts a sword through the wall-hanging and inadvertently murders Polonius. King Claudius orders his son into exile in England. Tormented by an irresolvable internal conflict between the sensual pleasures of her relationship with Hamlet and the guilt of her father’s death at Hamlet’s hand, Ophelia steadily unravels emotionally and mentally through the course of three songs in this “mad scene.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s West-östlicher Divan, specifically the “Buch des Unmuts” (“Book of Ill-Humor”) section, offered the remaining lyrics for the Op. 67 songs. Bote & Bock issued the collection in 1919. Soprano Mary Grasenick and pianist Alfred Klietmann gave the first performance of the “Buch des Unmuts” selections in Dresden on June 27, 1919.
—Todd E. Sullivan
No German lied composer of any reputation could ignore the seminal Romantic writings of Goethe. Beethoven, Loewe, Reichardt, Schubert, R. Schumann, and countless other musicians ventured onto this hallowed literary ground. Wolf accepted the daunting challenge of setting 51 Goethe poems between October 27, 1888, and October 21, 1889, avoiding whenever possible lyrics set by his musical predecessors, especially Schubert. Goethe’s profound representation of the human psyche and philosophical inquiry proved an ideal counterpart to Wolf’s complex harmonic-melodic style and sensitive text declamation.
In the Goethe-Lieder, Wolf drew from various literary sources, notably Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahren (Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship) and West-östlicher Divan, during this white-hot period of song composition. His penchant for poetry of an older generation combined with advanced harmonies (inspired in no small measure by the music of Richard Wagner) and sensitive, declamatory vocal writing in these veritable masterpieces of late-Romantic lieder. Still, Wolf lamented the near monopoly that song held on his compositional output. “What does it signify but reproach that songs are all I ever write, that I am master of what is only a small-scale genre?”
“Gretchen vor dem Andachtsbild der Mater Dolorosa” is a standalone song written by the teenage composer in 1878; it remained unpublished until 1936. Wolf took nearly three weeks to complete this emotion-laden ballad sung by the despondent Gretchen, who is pregnant with Faust’s child and abandoned, to an image of Mary the Mother of Jesus, mourning at the foot of her son’s cross.
Wolf published the three companion lieder on this program midway through his volume Gedichte von J.W. v. Goethe. They appear in succession, in order of composition: “Frühling übers Jahr” (December 21, 1888), “Die Bekehrte” (February 12, 1889), and “Die Spröde” (October 21, 1889). The multi-hued blossom of spring serves as a metaphor for the captivating soul of the singer’s beloved in “Frühling übers Jahr.” A coquettish shepherdess deflects the flirtatious advances of three young men in “Die Spröde,” while another young woman (Wolf scholar Eric Sams imagines the same shepherdess “converted”) succumbs to sensuous flute-playing in “Die Bekehrte.”
—Todd E. Sullivan
Caribbean folk songs embody a language that conveys the diverse history, narratives, and values of communities, particularly of the African descendants of slavery and the indigenous peoples. Originally an oral tradition, often handed down in the patois language, they capture the nuances of survival and daily community life over generations. Reflecting on the textured nature of those songs and their rich expression by the curious “singing people” of the multicultural Caribbean, musician and first collector of Caribbean folk songs Olive Walke describes, “They will burst into song on almost any occasion—at work, at play, at weddings, at funerals, and wakes—in fact, at any time of emotion. At these gatherings they sang songs in patois (broken) French, Spanish, African dialects, and English to the strumming of the guitars and the sound of the cuatro, bongos, guiros, and other instruments including string bass.”
It is the humming and chanting of the chantuelles as I grew up that resonate deep within me and from which my love for music emerged. Each song is a gem with messages that must be treasured for the preservation and continuation of our heritage and culture. We are thrilled to share them with you this evening. “Tina,” the first of four songs arranged by Desmond Waithe, is set in a small village called Cumana, on the northeast coast of Trinidad. A girl dressed in a red satin or silk dress has returned to the village for her mother’s funeral. The villagers are upset because she never took care of her mother and what is worse, she is dressed in red material that at that time could be also the life of a prostitute. “Evening Time” is a Jamaican folk song that describes a day after working on the plantation fields. In “Rosebud,” a woman waits for a letter from her lover to be delivered by steamboat. In “Cutie Pak,” a young child has been locked away in a very hot outdoor cellar for misbehaving. She hears jangling keys, and hopes it is her mother coming to free her. In “Aller moin ka-allé,” a young woman recounts all that she has done for her husband, but he has asked her to leave, to which she replies, “Go, I’m going.”
“Morena Osha,” composed by the late calypsonian André Tanker, describes the beauty of a strong dark-skinned Caribbean woman doing her daily activities. At night, the community comes to life with music and dance in a cool Caribbean breeze.
—Jeanine De Bique
Classical pianist, conductor, composer, recording artist, jazz musician, Hollywood music director, autobiographer, television host—André Previn accomplished it all during a remarkable 50-year career in music. The Russian-Jewish Priwin family fled Berlin in 1939, lived briefly in Paris, and settled in Los Angeles near a relative who worked as music director for Universal Studios. As a young man, Andreas Ludwig Priwin (who changed his name to André Previn and accepted American citizenship in 1943) studied composition with Joseph Achron, Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, and Ernst Toch, and conducting with Pierre Monteux. He became a staff pianist and orchestrator at MGM before graduating high school, and he later served as the studio’s music director.
Previn turned to full-time classical music performance in the 1960s. Although occasionally appearing as a solo pianist, he preferred the role of conductor, leading several orchestras as principal conductor or music director: Houston Symphony (1967–1970), London Symphony Orchestra (1969–1979), Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra (1976–1984), Los Angeles Philharmonic (1985–1989), and Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (1985–1991). In addition, Previn guest conducted most of the world’s major orchestras.
During the 1990s, Previn became more involved in chamber performances (“the soul of music”), composition, and his active return to jazz. His memoir, No Minor Chords: My Early Days in Hollywood, appeared in 1991. Previn garnered countless awards for his diverse contributions to music: Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II conferred knighthood on Previn in 1996; The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts honored him at the Kennedy Center Honors in 1998; and the Glenn Gould Foundation awarded Previn its Glenn Gould Prize in 2005. He received lifetime achievement recognition from the London Symphony Orchestra (2008), Gramophone magazine (2008), and the Recording Academy (2010).
Previn composed the orchestral song cycle Honey and Rue on a commission from Carnegie Hall for soprano Kathleen Battle, in honor of the Carnegie Hall centennial. Previn and Battle had collaborated frequently over the years, giving the composer special insight into his soloist’s vocal abilities. “She has that remarkably silvery quality,” explained Previn, “sings remarkably in tune with beautiful high pianissimos, and she pays a great deal of attention to the words.” From the beginning, Previn composed for an intimate accompanying ensemble, a characteristically eclectic grouping of chamber orchestra with jazz drums and jazz bass.
These jazz evocations also appealed to Previn’s lyricist—Nobel Prize–winning poet Toni Morrison—who had grown up in a musical family. “We played music in the house all the time,” Morrison explained in an interview with Dana Micucci. Most adult members of her family played instruments by ear, and her mother sang in nearly every vocal style and genre: opera, blues, parlor songs, sacred music, and jazz. The language, setting, and, occasionally, structure of music left an imprint on her own writings, The Bluest Eye (1970) and Jazz (1992) as examples. In addition to providing verses for Previn’s Honey and Rue and Four Songs, Morrison wrote lyrics for Richard Danielpour’s song cycles Sweet Talk and Spirits in the Well, and the libretto for his opera Margaret Garner.
Honey and Rue premiered at Carnegie Hall on January 5, 1992, with Kathleen Battle as soloist and Previn conducting the Orchestra of St. Luke’s and playing the piano. Music critic Bernard Holland, reviewing the premiere for The New York Times, wrote: “Honey and Rue pulls the concert hall, the Hollywood soundstage, the gospel meeting, and the saloon just that much closer together, all with a fastidious modesty.”
—Todd E. Sullivan