Concert & Tickets
Zadok the Priest
- Purcell
Programme note
Henry Purcell (1659–1695)
Suite from The Fairy QueenSecond Music
Air
Rondeau
Symphony from Act IV
[Prelude]
Canzona
Largo
Allegro – Adagio – Allegro
Prelude to Act III (If love’s a sweet passion)
Symphony from Act V
Chaconne (Dance for the Chinese Man and Woman) from Act VTowards the end of his short life, Purcell became as celebrated a composer for the London theatre as he was for the court and the church. He achieved one of his biggest theatrical successes with The Fairy Queen, produced at the Theatre Royal, Dorset Gardens (which stood between Fleet Street and the Thames) in May 1692, and revived the following year. The Fairy Queen was an anonymous adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream as a semi-opera: that is, with the cast of actors supplemented by a separate team of singers, performing self-contained masque scenes within each act. Instrumental music was used to preface the acts, to introduce the masques, and for dances within the masques. It also had the specific function of accompanying – and covering the noise of – the “machines” which were used for lavish scenic effects. The Fairy Queen was especially rich in these: which may be one reason why a member of the company later recalled that “the Court and Town were wonderfully satisfy’d with it; but the Expences in setting it out being so great, the Company got very little by it.”
Purcell’s orchestra for The Fairy Queen was, by modern standards, a small one. It is founded on strings, playing in four parts, with a 'continuo' harpsichord (and possibly other instruments) filling out the harmonies. Some numbers have parts for two trumpets and timpani, relatively recent additions to Purcell’s orchestra. A few also have parts for two oboes; in the absence of the original performing material, it is reasonable to assume that the oboes also joined in on the first and second violin parts in many other places. It also seems likely that at least one bassoon was added to the bass line.
This selection of instrumental music from The Fairy Queen begins with two of the pieces played as the members of the audience were taking their seats before the Prologue: they are an Air and a smooth triple-time Rondeau for strings and continuo. These are followed by the grand Symphony (or overture) in D major which introduces the musical segment of Act IV, a masque of the four seasons, set in a garden of gilded fountains, which is performed for the birthday of King Oberon. The Symphony was played to accompany a sunrise: in the words of the play-book printed at the time, “the Sun rises, it appears red through the Mist, as it ascends it dissipates the Vapours, and is seen in its full Lustre”. Scored with trumpets and drums, it is in four movements: an imposing introduction; an intricately contrapuntal Canzona; a minor-key Largo for the strings alone, in Purcell’s most expressive vein of chromatic harmony; and a fanfaring finale, with a contrasting slow middle section again containing some expressive string writing.
The Act III Prelude begins a masque of fairies and rustics with the introduction to the song “If love’s a sweet passion”, setting out its memorable melody in full. And the last two pieces, in C major, are from the masque which concludes the fifth and last Act, a scene of general rejoicing at the forthcoming double wedding of Shakespeare’s lovers. The Symphony, another triple-time piece in rondo form, with trumpets and oboes, accompanied the sudden revelation of an exotic Chinese garden, with a fountain and flying birds. The Chaconne was danced by “a Chinese man and woman" towards the end of the masque; it is in the triple-time rhythm associated with the dance, and also in its traditional form of variations over a repeated (and itself varied) sixteen-bar “ground bass”.
Hear my prayer, O Lord
Purcell grew up in the English church, as a boy chorister in the Chapel Royal and, once his voice had broken, as organ tuner and copyist at Westminster Abbey. In 1679, he succeeded his teacher John Blow as organist of the Abbey, and in 1682 he became one of the organists of the Chapel Royal. Both these posts, and indeed his involvement with the court’s musical establishment before 1682, required him to composed sacred music, chiefly anthems. The anthem Hear my prayer, O Lord, which dates from the early 1680s, is a setting for eight-part choir, supported by organ, of the first verse of the penitential Psalm 102. It is no more than a fragment: for some unknown, and unfathomable, reason, the composer’s manuscript breaks off at the first double bar, with a blank space after it. This is so tantalising that it is hardly surprising contemporary composers such as Sven-David Sandström and Bob Chilcott have used the torso as the starting-point for more extended works; but it is also frequently performed on its own. The piece is based virtually throughout on just two phrases, which are used, both ways up, to create a single span of music gradually increasing in tension towards a powerful climax.
Hear my prayer, O Lord, and let my crying come unto thee.
Psalm 102: 1
Praise the Lord, O JerusalemPurcell’s two church positions, at Westminster Abbey and the Chapel Royal, intersected for royal occasions in the Abbey such as the coronation of James II in 1685 and the coronation of William and Mary in April 1689. It was almost certainly for the latter occasion that he composed Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem, which has a specially compiled Biblical text including verses traditionally associated with coronation services. The piece is a fine example of the verse anthem, a form of Tudor origin in which “verses” for one or more soloists with instrumental accompaniment alternate with passages for the full choir doubled by the instruments. By Purcell’s time, in part thanks to the influence of the French grand motet, the instruments consisted of a string orchestra together with organ, and their contribution included an opening Symphony, or overture, and short “ritornellos” or interludes. As it happens, Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem was the last of Purcell’s “symphony anthems” of this kind, because strings were allowed in anthems only on royal occasions, and after his coronation William discontinued their use.
The anthem is scored for five solo voices – used mostly together, and in one brief passage in a trio of the lower voices, but never in solos or duets – with five-part choir, sparingly used. The Symphony, in a solemn minor key, consists of a slow introduction leading to an extended triple-time fugue. The first verse for the soloists is in a mixture of chordal writing and intricate counterpoint, with occasional interjections by the upper strings as well as the support of the continuo bass. The triple-time trio “As we have heard” is answered and extended by the full choir, with the orchestra, before all five soloists conclude the section. The strings lead a turn to the major for the contrapuntal verse “Be thou exalted”, before the full forces end the anthem with an extended, exuberant triple-time “Alleluia”.
Symphony
Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem: praise thy God, O Sion.
For kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nursing mothers.
As we have heard, so have we seen: In the city of our God.
God upholdeth the same for ever.Be thou exalted, Lord, in thine own strength:
So will we sing and praise Thy power.
Alleluia.after Psalm 147: 12; Isaiah 49: 23; Psalm 48: 8; Psalm 21: 13
© Anthony Burton
- Bach
Programme note
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750)
Contrapunctus XIV (Fuga a tre soggetti) from The Art of FugueDie Kunst der Fuge (The Art of Fugue) was one of Bach’s last major projects. He composed a preliminary version at the beginning of the 1740s, and then returned to the work in the last months of his life to prepare it for publication – which eventually took place in the year after his death. It was conceived as a comprehensive demonstration of the possibilities of counterpoint in the 'old style', in a series of fugues or 'Contrapuncti' in three and four parts (two of them also playable upside down), all based on or including variants of the same theme, together with four two-part canons on further variants of the theme. Most scholars now believe that the work was intended to be played on the harpsichord, with a second player in a couple of pieces. But because it is set out in 'open score', with a separate line for each contrapuntal part, and because it contains no obviously idiomatic keyboard writing, it has always seemed to invite scoring for various families of instruments (as well as more tendentious wholesale orchestration). Tonight the final four-part Contrapunctus will be played by strings, with keyboard support.
This last Contrapunctus, also called 'Fugue on three subjects', remained incomplete at Bach’s death. It does not actually include the recurring main theme of The Art of Fugue, which would presumably have been incorporated into its final section: various completions, notably one published in 1932 by the Edinburgh-based scholar Sir Donald Tovey, have shown how this could have been done. But, as it stands, the piece consists of a continuous sequence of three fugues, each introducing a new 'subject', or theme. The first fugue has a serious, slow-moving subject, which in traditional fashion is later heard in 'inversion' (upside-down) and 'stretto' (overlapping rather than spread-out entries). The second fugue has a more active subject, and later also reintroduces the subject of the first fugue. The third fugue is on a subject beginning with Bach’s musical signature B–A–C–H, the German note-names corresponding to our B flat, A, C, B natural. At the very end of Bach’s manuscript, this is combined with the previous two subjects for a few bars before the lines peter out one by one. The first printed edition ends a few bars earlier at a cadence, not on to a chord of the home key, D minor, but on to its dominant, A major: a 'half-close', as it is called, symbolising the unfinished state of this magisterial torso.
© Anthony Burton
- Handel
Programme note
George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)
Coronation Anthem: My heart is inditingThe German-born Handel had grown comfortable in London where he had lived more or less permanently since 1711. By 1723 his Italian operas had flourished so well that he could afford to buy a new town house at 25 Brook Street – which is now the Handel Museum. Then in 1727 he applied to Parliament to become a naturalized British citizen. His request was granted. So Georg Friedrich Händel became George Frideric Handel. This made Handel eligible for court appointments. So, when King George I, the first of the Hanoverian monarchs, died on June 11th, 1727 on his way to visit Hanover, his successor, King George II, wasted no time in inviting Handel to write four anthems to be part of the Coronation ceremonies. King George II and Queen Caroline were well acquainted with Handel. They had appointed him music master (while they were still Prince and Princess of Wales) for their two daughters, Princesses Anne and Louisa. As it happened there was an interregnum in the position of the Music Director of the Chapel Royal – the holder of the position would have been expected to write the music for so grand an occasion as a Coronation. However, Maurice Greene was only appointed to this position on September 4th, 1727 (he would become Master of the King’s Musick in 1735, staying in that post until his death in 1755) but by then Handel had already been commissioned to write the anthems. Handel had about a month in which to complete the task, though, in the event, the Coronation had to be postponed by a week due to an impending high tide and possibility of flooding in the vicinity of Westminster Abbey. Even so, October 11th turned out to be a very rainy day! Apart from the King’s insistence on the text for Zadok the Priest, Handel was able to choose his own biblical texts for the three remaining anthems and was quite miffed when some bishops attempted to offer unsolicited advice on what would be appropriate. Handel wrote back sharply: “I have read my Bible very well, and I shall chuse (sic) for myself”.
Handel allowed himself the luxury of a very large orchestra (apparently about 160 musicians!) and a choir of nearly 50 made up mainly from the choristers of the Chapel Royal plus soloists. The notes in the margins of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Order of Service suggest some confusion between the segments of the choirs in their different galleries as to the order in which they were supposed to sing the works chosen. “The Anthems in Confusion; all irregular in the Music.”
The four anthems were expected to be performed at particular moments during the Coronation Service. The intended sequence appears to have been as follows: the first was The King shall rejoice (based on Psalm 21) which was attached to the Recognition and the Crowning Ceremony. The second was the glorious Zadok the Priest to accompany the Anointing of the King. Next was Let thy hand be strengthened (for the Enthronement of the newly crowned monarch) and finally came My heart is inditing which was performed during the crowning of Queen Caroline.
My heart is inditing is a four verse anthem, with each verse treated differently. The text is based on Psalm 45 and Isaiah Chapter 49 and proclaims the virtues and status of royal ladies. The opening section is graceful and elegant. Handel added four soloists to his choristers and judiciously included the timpani to add a sense of public occasion. The second verse is led by the boys’ voices. Overall it is rich with canonic entries. The third verse is a stately dance where the women’s voices now hold sway with obbligato violins. The final section is more vigorous – now Handel adds the timpani and trumpets in full puff to glorious effect.
© David Gardner
Coronation Anthem: Zadok the Priest
When King George II invited Handel to write the Coronation Anthems for his imminent coronation in October 1727 one wonders whether he realised just how lasting the result would be. After all, Zadok the Priest has featured in every coronation service since. It contains some six and a half minutes of unashamed splendour, for Handel had quickly absorbed the English taste in ceremonial music – big, simple and grand. Zadok is exactly that – a happy conjunction of appropriate and inspiring text (telling of the anointing of King Solomon in the Old Testament Book of Kings I) and music of powerful directness firmly rooted in the brilliance of D major (thus allowing the use of Baroque valve-less trumpets). The anthem is in three parts. The opening orchestral introduction is a masterpiece of dramatic build up so that the eventual entrance of the choir is positively explosive. Our attention thus riveted, the rest of the anthem strikes the heroic/patriotic mode so suitable for the occasion with trumpets and drums triumphant. Handel keeps the counterpoint to a minimum – he wants the text to be clear and powerful. How he succeeded! No wonder Handel was fêted by the British during his lifetime and is so still to the present day.
© David Gardner
- Bach
Programme note
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750)
Suite No 3 in D major, BWV 1068Ouverture: Lentement – Vite – Lentement
Air
Gavottes I and II
Bourrées I and II
GigueThis is an orchestral suite in the French style – though we should really call it the Franco-German style, since the form of the suite consisting of an overture and a set of dances, originally an imitation of the suites drawn from the operas of Lully and his successors, was one which was taken up enthusiastically by a whole string of composers at the German courts. Bach’s prolific friend Georg Philipp Telemann composed well over two hundred of them; Bach himself, as far as we know from the surviving copies, wrote only four. This one was probably composed for the Leipzig Collegium Musicum, the student musical society (founded by Telemann) which met at Zimmerman’s coffee house, and which Bach directed (with one short break) from 1729 to about 1741. In the form in which it has come down to us it must have been intended for some special occasion, since it is scored for, by Bach’s standards, a large orchestra: two oboes, three trumpets, timpani, strings and keyboard continuo. But the musicologist Joshua Rifkin has pointed out that the wind section is never given any essential material on its own, and suggested that the work may originally have been conceived for strings alone.
Baroque suites were often called Ouvertures, after the first and longest movement. This one is in the standard form of a slow introduction in crisply dotted (long-short) rhythms, an extended quick section which begins like a fugue and continues in a contrapuntal vein (though with episodes in which the first violin line seems to turn temporarily into a concerto-like solo part), and a slow conclusion in the same style as the opening. A huge repeat is marked which would take the players back through the whole of the quick section and this conclusion: but very few performances these days include this repeat, and it is hard to imagine that Bach’s players would have had the stamina for it either! After the Overture comes the famous Air for strings alone (though not on the violins’ G strings), and three dance movements for the full orchestra: a pair of Gavottes, with the second acting as a trio for the first; a similar pair of Bourrées; and a Gigue. All these movements are in the standard format of two sections, the second equal to or longer than the first, and each repeated; and this layout, together with the regular phrasing imposed by the dances, channels Bach’s music into very different patterns from those found in his more open-ended concerto movements or cantata arias. All the same, his musical personality is never obscured: it shows through, for example, in the ornate top line of the Air (not so different from those in the slow movements of his harpsichord concertos); and, throughout the Suite, in the little touches of contrapuntal interest in the inner parts which always keep Bach’s textures so full and rich and alive.
© Anthony Burton
- conductor/organ/harpsichord
- -
Handel – ever the master dramatist – created one of the iconic moments in all music when he allowed a long slow build-up of chords to grow and grow over a pulsing bass line until it bursts into the radiant shout of Zadok the Priest. That’s the climax of this sumptuous concert of Baroque masters bringing together some of the greatest musical minds of the age into a rich sequence of delights.
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