ADAM LAY YBOUNDEN, c.1400, by Carson Cooman (born 1982) and Michael John Trotta (born 1978)

We open our program with two settings of this poem. Set numerous times in the 20th century, most notably by Benjamin Britten in his Ceremony of Carols, we present two 21st century settings. In the first, Carson Cooman focuses on the text’s message of humanity’s redemption by the birth of Jesus; if the apple had not been taken, we would never have had our lady, Mary, become a heavenly queen, and that only happened through her bearing Jesus. Carson Cooman is composer in residence at Harvard’s Memorial Church and an extremely prolific creator of music. His setting expresses Christians’ excitement at the birth of Christ through scalar runs in the organ accompaniment and the ever varying compound meters,* in which notes are rhythmically set in 3 groups of 2, or 2 groups of 3, or even in groups of 2 plus 3.

Where Cooman composes an effusive setting, Trotta’s is more ruminative, almost as if the narrator is parsing how the expulsion from Eden could lead to the greater good of salvation. He creates a muted tone to the music through use of a slow tempo and a largely piano* dynamic; meanwhile the tonality vacillates between the Lydian mode* — distinguished from major tonality* by its raised fourth — based on the note D and ’ same mode based on an F#. This alternation creates the feeling of a dreamlike trance, further underscoring the rumination on the paradox told in the text. At the verse describing how the eating of the apple resulted in the birth of Jesus, Trotta refers to the change of mood from despair to gratitude by shifting the music to an A major tonality that flirts with its relative minor of f#. In the final stanza, Trotta finally builds the dynamic to forte to express the gratitude of the narrator. He returns to the original muted dynamic to end the piece once again with Deo gracias, but in a slower tempo with a diminuendo* to piano.*

HAIL, MARY and AVE MARIA, English Medieval and Michał Ziółkowski (born 1991)

The medieval carol Hail, Mary paraphrases the first chapter in the Gospel of Luke to describe the visitation by the angel Gabriel to Mary informing her of her pregnancy with Jesus despite her virginity. Carols of this time would not have been sung as part of a church service; the Catholic Church’s liturgy was all conducted in Latin. However, during religiously significant times of year, the people would perform mystery plays dramatizing the events observed at those times. All of the medieval carols in the vernacular extant today came from one of these plays, including the two you hear tonight. Interestingly, the Catholic Church took the opening salutation by Gabriel as told in Luke and followed it with praise of and supplication to Mary to redeem the penitents reciting it; the ensuing Ave Maria is still recited by many Catholics today and forms the text of our second setting. Once again, one version focuses on the salvation of believers by the arrival of Jesus as God and man… made but one, while the other one focuses on our need for redemption by Jesus’ mother due to our endemically sinful nature. The medieval version creates a celebratory mood with its triple meter* and major sounding mode.* In addition, at that time, a triple meter* also alluded to the Christian Trinity.

In contrast, Ziółkowski’s setting focuses on the mystic nature of the virgin birth through the use of a slow tempo with a beginning and ending of many chords made up of tone clusters (notes separated only by the degree of a major or minor second). A soprano solo musically represents the angel Gabriel, while the chorus declaims the penitent prayer. A fugal section in which voices enter from the highest to the lowest musically express the fullness of the Virgin’s grace. The solo returns for Gabriel’s greeting blessed art thou among women and then Ziółkowski segues to the end of the prayer, in which the penitent asks for her prayers. The tonal clusters that set the final Amens provide a symmetry to the work.

PUER NATUS, 13th century, translated by David Halstead, by Bartholomäus Gesius (c.1562-1613) and Michael Prætorius (1571-1621); and A CHILD IS BORN IN BETHLEHEM, by Bernat Vivancos (born 1973)

These two settings probably present the most divergent interpretations of text on our program. The first setting has a text dating from the 13th century, which is very loosely paraphrased in the second by MacGill in 1876. Cyriakus Spangenberg translated the Latin into German in the 1500s and the tune first appeared in a publication from 1553. Lutherans and choral singers are likely to be familiar with it; JS Bach used it both in his works for chorus and in an organ work. The setting you hear tonight employs two settings of the tune. The first one, a hymnlike setting for SATB composed by Bartholomäus Gesius, alternates with a trio excerpted from a version by Michael Prætorius containing a number of movements for different voice combinations. Originally set for treble* trio, tonight we alternate having the trebles* and lower voices sing it; in both cases the middle voice carries the melody. In this arrangement the ebullient mood of the triple meter* celebrates the fortuitous implications in Christs appearance as a helpless baby rather than judge.

Vivancos, however, focuses on the mystery and import of the text’s message in his composition. After stating the first verse as a duet between tenor and bass to present the melody, he then sets the text with a treble* duet in canon* at the octave one beat after the lower voiced duet. The resultant sonorities alternate between consonance* and dissonance* and this along with the slow tempo and understated dynamics create a sense of stasis inducing an almost hypnotic trance to illustrate his reading of the text.

IN BLEAK MIDWINTER, Christina Rosetti (1830 - 1894), by Harold Darke (1888-1976) and Gustav Holst (1874-1934)

These two settings provided the inspiration for tonight’s concert theme. Choral geeks forever debate which is the better one, and I believe it is a testament to the fact that both are outstanding. Both versions emphasize the tender nature of the poem, and I have always found it difficult not to choke up when singing the last verse of Holst’s version. Many modern hymnals include the Holst setting for the Christmas season. Its simple four part homophony,* major tonality,* and gorgeous melody make it ideal for congregational singing. Darke’s music in contrast scores the text in a manner more suited to a choir, with its organ introduction and accompaniment, its two solo verses, and its variation in the final part of the melody to dramatize the last line of the poem.

THERE IS NO ROSE OF SUCH VIRTUE, 15th century, featuring a Medieval setting and one by Connor Koppin (born 1991)

The second medieval English carol on tonight’s program sings the virtues of Mary in her role as bearer of the redeemer of the world. The five stanzas attribute the Christian Trinity* to the rose that is Mary. Koppin takes the first two stanzas and turns them into an ode to Mary, leaving out her connection to the Trinity. He creates symmetry by reprising the music of the first stanza, but this time with further divided vocal parts and a forte dynamic, as well as directed markings in the score to emphasize the words There is no rose. He also creates variety within the work by altering the melody incrementally each time it reprises; by varying settings of it first for two treble* voices, then subsequently for four part-mixed chorus, four part men’s chorus, and divided chorus; and by extensive treatment of the word Alleluia.

THE LAMB, William Blake (1888 - 1976), by Adolphus Hailstork (born 1941) and John Tavener (1944-2013)

While this poem by William Blake refers to none of the events celebrated at Christmas, in Christian religion and its art the lamb, in its innocence and its use as a sacrifice in Christ’s time, has long been used to represent Jesus. The American composer Adolphus Hailstork set this poem as the final work in his Five Short Choral Pieces, published in 1994, none of which has anything to do with the holiday season. I imagine that Hailstork’s version of The Lamb is unfamiliar to most of you; it was to me. Hailstork conveys the innocence of the lamb with a lovely melody sung by the sopranos as the alto and tenor lines wordlessly accompany them. The basses enter in a canon* at the third on the third line of the poem, and for the next four lines the other two voices gradually imitate with words the melody that continues in the soprano; the ensuing bloom of the musical texture depicts the mystery of creation described in the text. This textural bloom culminates in a major key with the four voices in homophony* for the first time to emphasize the text Making all the vales rejoice. For the second stanza Hailstork’s music modulates* from E minor to A major and then abruptly shifts from A major to A flat major. Because the melody embraces the tritone* between the fourth and seventh degrees of the scale, however, the resulting sound is distinctly modal.* The tonality* only announces itself on the line I a child and thou a lamb, resulting in a wonderful musical climax before subsiding in vocal register and dynamic to conclude the piece in F major.

John Tavener wrote his setting of the poem to be performed for the fourth Sunday in Advent for Winchester Cathedral. Just two days later King’s College in Cambridge, England, included it in their Service of Nine Lessons and Carols, which public radio here in the US and probably in England broadcasts widely; for that reason it has become a popular selection for choirs at this season. I believe the work’s simplicity alludes to the innocence of the lamb; the two verses are set the same way, although the lower voices join in the first of two treatments of the text in the second stanza to underlie the treble* voices at the octave. While the ensuing music might sound very discordant, the composition of it abides by two simple premises. The melody has two phrases and the second phrase is identical to the first except that it is sung backwards, a technique known as retrograde. The second involves the accompanying voice in the duet: when the melody moves in one direction, its accompaniment is mirrored, or in musical terms, inverted, in the other, like the visual image in a Rorschach test. One might posit that this double palindromic symmetry alludes both to the words in Genesis and God said: let us make man in our image, as well as having one manifestation of the Christian Trinity,* Jesus, made man. For the last two lines of each stanza (which, like Blake’s poem, repeat the first line) Tavener takes a different approach to the setting of the melody, one that is homophonically* very consonant.* This accentuates the importance of Blake’s ending each stanza with a reiteration of the opening line, thereby affirming God’s redeeming love. That the piece opens with just the melody and closes with the same line supported by simple harmony underscores the innocence of the lamb.

MAGNIFICAT and NUNC DIMITTIS, by Henry Purcell (1659-1695) and Herbert Howells (1892-1983)

We end our concert tonight with two settings of the British Evening Service by the Baroque composer Henry Purcell and the 20th century composer Herbert Howells. While Henry VIII established the Anglican Church in 1534, some parts of the Catholic liturgy, including these two texts, appeared in the first English Prayer-Book, published in 1549 as part of the order of worship for various services. Originally the Magnificat appeared as a canticle* in Vespers, a service held in the evening, while the canticle* Nunc dimittis was part of Compline, the last service of the day. The Anglicans combined these two works to form their version of an evening service they called Evensong. The Magnificat is taken from the first chapter of the New Testament book of Luke; after the angel appears to Mary to tell her that, as a virgin, she will bear the Son of God, she recites these verses of social justice, which are adapted from the old Testament’s Song of Miriam in the book of Exodus. The Nunc dimittis is taken from the second chapter of Luke. Also known as the Song of Simeon, it quotes the words of Simeon, a Jew outside the Temple waiting to die until he has seen the Messiah. When Mary and Joseph arrive at the temple to present their baby son, Simeon sees him, holds him in his arms, and speaks these words.

Purcell sets the two texts largely in syllabic* homophony* for a treble* trio, a bass trio, and four-part chorus. Some word painting does appear in the Magnificat, such as his use of melismas* with snappy dotted rhythms to illustrate the word rejoiceth in the opening; his having the bass trio declaim the words lowliness and humble and meek in a low vocal range; his use of a polyphonic* treatment of the treble* trio voices, each stating ever larger falling intervals, to describe he hath scattered the proud; and a wonderfully long-held note in the basses to depict the word ever. Similarly the Nunc dimittis has few departures from its homophonic* texture, two exceptions being the melismas* within the bass trio lines to paint the word glory and the drawn-out repeated melismas* in a solo bass line as a different depiction of the word ever.

Not surprisingly, considering the era in which he lived, Howell’s setting is much more expansive than that of Purcell. This was the second of sixteen settings of the Magnificat and Nunc dimittis he composed, and he wrote it for Gloucester Cathedral, where he received his early training before being accepted into the Royal College of Music. I love his use of the Aeolian mode, also known as the melodic minor scale, in which the third, sixth, and seventh degrees of a major scale are lowered. Pianists know that starting on A and playing all of the white keys results in the natural minor scale, but they also know that most composers will often use the harmonic minor scale by retaining only the minor third and raising the sixth and seventh degrees back up to approach the tonic, or first degree, of the scale. To my ear Howell’s persistent use of the lowered sixth and seventh degrees creates a dreamlike quality to the sound, and his word painting is exquisite. He sets the phrases of the canticle in which Mary refers to herself for sopranos only, but then he brings in an intertwining duet when she refers to how later generations shall see her, bringing in all four vocal parts only when she starts to enumerate the changes that the Lord will make to rectify social inequities. Howells uses the same melodic line of the sopranos in the lower male voices as they declaim he hath showed strength with his arm, but the forte* dynamic in the low register* creates a musical embodiment of the Lord’s strength and sounds completely different from the opening line due to its different organ accompaniment. Later on the tenors sing He rememb’ring his mercy and Howells brings the treble* voices in six beats later in a homophonic* trio in a softer dynamic to invoke the sense of recollection. For the Doxology,* Howells treats the opening line as a fugue* among the voices, but then he reprises it for the line As it was in the beginning with the sixth and seventh degrees of the scale finally raised, creating a musical equivalent in this listener’s ear to a glorious sunrise.

For the Nunc dimittis Howells maintains a somber minor* tonality and a consistently homophonic* texture. He reprises the opening line from the Magnificat with all four voices in unison at the opening of the Doxology,* and for the reiteration of As it was in the beginning, he uses a technique often used by composers — notably Bach in his Magnificat — of reprising the musical material he used earlier. This time, however, it is not the beginning of the Nunc dimittis but rather that part of the text in the Doxology* that ends the Magnificat, thereby tying the two works together. ▣

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