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Stravinsky Symphony of Psalms
Program Notes for March 1, 2003 Riverside Choral Society Alice Tully Hall, New York City - by Patrick Gardner Igor Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms was commissioned by the Boston Symphony Orchestra's conductor Serge Koussevitzky to celebrate the orchestra's 50th anniversary in 1930. While both the composer's publisher and the orchestra were hoping for something more traditional, Stravinsky embraced the free hand he was given in choosing both orchestration and formal structure. He used this freedom to compose a work that was not a traditional symphony based on the nineteenth-century model, but rather a major work in which chorus and orchestra "should be on an equal footing, neither of them outweighing the other." * While his publisher requested a work without chorus, Stravinsky "had had the psalm symphony idea in mind for some time, and this is what I insisted on composing." At the same time he wished to retain the organic nature of the traditional symphony, as distinguished from the suite, "the latter being simply a succession of pieces varying in character." Despite Stravinsky's insistence that his design is thus symphonic in nature, it may be that, as Jeremy Noble says, "the work is a symphony only in the loosest of senses, and may have been called so only because the BSO had commissioned a symphonic work." Perhaps Stravinsky's emphasis on descriptions and definitions of this work as a symphony were merely his justifications for writing a work that fulfilled his own needs at a time of personal religious crisis. The mid-1920s were a period of spiritual reawakening for Stravinsky. Having left the Orthodox Church in his late teens, Stravinsky rejoined the church as a practicing member and communicant just prior to the composition of the Symphony of Psalms in 1929. Between 1926 and 1934 he also composed settings of the Otce nash ("Our Father"), Simvol' vrei ("Credo"), and Bogoroditse devo ("Blessed Virgin," i.e., "Ave Maria"), which are direct and deeply spiritual in their connection to the Russian sacred motet tradition. Stravinsky's objective and austere approach in the Symphony of Psalms stands in contrast to the nineteenth-century tradition of "romantic" and lyrical settings of religious texts. Clearly the composer would agree with the pioneering music critic Eduard Hanslick that "the spiritual content of music can only be preserved by denying its sentimental content". The composer carefully chose an instrumentation that was "anti-romantic" in its sonority; by dispensing with violins, violas, and clarinets he effects a distancing of emotion. Stravinsky seeks to create transcendent ritual rather than a sentimental emotive experience. For his text, Stravinsky chose Verses 13 and 14 of Psalm 38 for Part I, Verses 2, 3, and 4 of Psalm 39 for part II, and the complete Psalm 150 for Part III (the numbering is from the Vulgate rather than the King James version). The composer wrote that the first movement, "Hear my prayer, O Lord," was "composed in a state of religious and musical ebullience." However, he composed the fast sections of the last movement first and then turned to the first two movements. Of particular interest is the progression from prayer, through faith, to praise and transcendence. The most striking musical motive in the first movement is the choral chant heard at the first alto entry. At the surface level one hears a beautifully crafted unison line that perfectly reflects the plaintive quality of the text "Hear my prayer." However, close analysis of the contrasting opening section, the materials used in the accompanimental figures, and the brilliant structural unity reveals the virtuosity of Stravinsky's compositional craftsmanship. The melodic and harmonic material that will form the basis of the entire work is set out in the first movement. He extracts traditional "chords" from an octatonic pitch collection-the sharply etched arpeggios in the first four measures-and then contrasts the octatonic scale with the E Phrygian mode (the "white notes" on the piano beginning on E), most clearly characterized by the initial half-step in the alto's plaintive opening melody. The descending thirds used to accompany the first entrance of the full chorus are also derived specifically from the original octatonic scale. Many different levels of unity are achieved harmonically and structurally in the composer's manipulation of these basic musical materials. Those same thirds become the basis for the first fugue subject that opens the second movement. The previously mentioned opening chordal arpeggios turn out to be presentations of the dominant seventh chords that traditionally prepare the keys of the two subjects in the double fugue, C minor and E flat. The second movement, a double fugue, opens with a carefully worked-out initial subject. After the presentation of the four fugal entries in this entirely instrumental opening, an episode leads to the entry of the choir, which presents an entirely different fugue subject, accompanied now by the instrumental fugue subject. An a cappella episode in stretto (the opening motive presented in quickly overlapping entrances) is followed by a purely instrumental episode that leads to the final phrase. Elliott Antokoletz notes that the clear stratification of the two key areas may be seen as a "dramatic polarity between Man and God." The text in this movement has moved away from Man's plea for intercession to his statement that God has given him faith-"he set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth." That new song must surely be the "Alleluia" and the "Laudate," the song of praise that follows in the final movement. Less strict in its use of octatonicism, the third movement continues to brilliantly utilize the alternation of the minor and major thirds, juxtaposing C major and C minor with related harmonic and melodic structures. It opens with a beautiful phrase of exalted and calming devotion, which is followed by a ferocious chant in which the horns loudly declaim the rhythm of the text that the chorus is singing, "Laudate Dominum." A brief interruption recalls the "Alleluia" that opened the movement and reasserts the prayerful humility that opened and will shortly close the movement. The scherzo-like material that follows presents a powerful melodic figure that consists of a series of E-major arpeggios-this is the motive that Stravinsky says he wrote as a depiction "of Elijah's chariot climbing into the Heavens. Never before had I written anything quite so literal as the triplets for horns and piano to suggest the horses and chariot." After this final orchestral outbreak, the chorus and woodwinds sing with breathtaking serenity over a slow-moving ostinato in the harp and piano parts. Stravinsky's antipathy to obvious text setting is nowhere more apparent than here. This devotional calmness tells us to "praise the Lord with the cymbals" and the final setting of the word "Dominum" is broken between syllables. Thus we are put on notice that no matter how beautifully we sing the word "God," the word itself can never present the fullness of Stravinsky's view of his creator. Clearly Stravinsky's intent is not to lead us in worldly celebration but rather to escort us to the halls of celestial truth. *Unless otherwise noted, quotes are Stravinsky's own words taken from his autobiography and the sets of memoirs published in collaboration with Robert Craft. |
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